Work in Progress
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: Complete. Takes place during s5 Into the Woods, then veers drastically off canon. We see Riley's dark side... Nominated at Love's Last Glimpse Awards.
1. Part One

A/N: A lot of this was "cleaned up" so that I could post it here, although, I feel that it takes away from the story, and seeing the characters fully. That being said, if you're interested to see the unedited version, please email me.

Warning: rape, profane language

"My Plague"

_I'm just a bastard, but at least I admit it; At least I admit it. _

_Slipnot_

* * *

Spike sat in his armchair listlessly, holding a bottle of alcohol. He pulled out the cork, sighing before taking a healthy swig. He didn't bother to turn around as his crypt door burst open, and he heard the heavy, lumbering footfalls of Captain Cardboard approaching him. Knowing an argument of some sort was about to start, Spike put the cork back in the bottle and set it aside. 

"What took you? Guess it takes awhile to get back to full strength after those bites."

Riley grabbed Spike by the shirt and pulled him out of the chair without a word. With rage written all over his face, he slammed him against a pillar.

"You may have noticed, Spike…" He paused only long enough to punch Spike in the face before continuing, "I left reasonable about three exits back."

"Look, I'm not the one who got you into this. 'S not my fault you're not gonna be able to hold onto her—you're not the long haul guy, and you _know_ it."

"Why the hell _not_?" Riley punctuated the "not" by slamming the back of Spike's head into the pillar.

"Bloody hell!" Spike could see that the boy's anger didn't seem to be abating, but still opted to tell him the truth.

_Maybe then he'll bloody well come back to reality._

"The girl needs some monster in her man ... and that's not in your nature..." His voice softened, and he tried to sound as calm as possible, as he finished, "...no matter how low you try to go."

"Really, Spike? What makes you so sure?" Riley's eyes darkened as he stared at Spike, something vaguely sinister beginning to show there.

Spike scoffed at him in disbelief.

"Whatever, Crew Cut. I don't have time for—"

Riley cut him off, bringing the bleached blonde's head down upon his raised knee. Spike fell to the floor, and Riley was immediately upon him.

"'Not dark enough,' he says. This dark enough for you, Spike?" he yelled, turning the vampire over onto his back, his huge hands fumbling at the buckle of Spike's pants.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Spike yelled back, a faint note of panic beginning in his voice as he kicked out blindly, and managed to catch Riley on his upper thigh.

Riley fell upon him from the blow, as Spike cried out in pain, collapsing on the ground from his massive, chip induced headache.

"You're gonna pay for that."

Spike felt Riley's breath on his face before feeling his pants being ripped downward to his knees. He muttered a slightly slurred, "no" as he turned over, trying desperately to crawl away. He had made one critical mistake -- he had forgotten that the worse the intent to hurt a human, the harsher the firing of the chip would be. Now, the pain was making him woozy, and he felt like passing out.

_No, gotta get away._

He stiffened in alarm and confusion as he felt Riley directly behind him.

_He wouldn't_ dare.

"I'll show you just how dark I can be," Riley muttered, positioning himself behind the helpless vampire.

Everything went in slow motion after that.

In a vehement rage, just desperate to escape before the boy could carry out his intentions, Spike roared as he rolled over quickly, kicking Riley in the face as he flipped onto his back. He cried out again as the chip fired more torturously than before, stunning him into brief immobility.

He could only hope that he would recover before Riley, who lay on his stomach beside him on the floor. Spike squeezed his eyes shut, willing the searing pain to go away. He realized he was being swallowed by the darkness of his closed lids, and willed them to open.

When he managed to open them again, he could see Riley in his peripheral vision— rising stiffly to his feet. He turned his body, frantically trying to push himself up.

_If I can just get to the tunnels before that wanker…_

Riley's caustic laughter broke into his thoughts.

"You drew first blood, Spike," he said conversationally, removing some of said blood from his lip with his thumb as his less than average member, red, angry and hard, jutted from his opened pants. "But let's see if I can draw more," he added darkly, walking back to stand over the suffering blond.

He turned Spike over once more, pulling his hips back so that he was on his hands and knees. Wasting no time, so that he couldn't attack him again, Riley rammed himself into Spike. A monster cried out in pure bliss, and his victim in unadulterated agony. Riley hissed as he slowly pushed forward, against Spike's rebelling muscles, until he was all the way inside.

"Oh… yes," Riley murmured, slowly pulling out before thrusting back in quickly, his movements eased slightly from Spike's blood, his large fingers squeezing and bruising Spike's narrow hips.

"No. No, no, no…" Spike's pained mantra of disbelief broke slightly through Riley's haze. He grabbed the back of his slicked back platinum hair, yanking his head backwards.

"Come on, Spike," he panted out, his thrusts quickening, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the crypt. "I thought you liked dark, being a vampire and all. So you must…" He paused to groan deeply. "…like this. God, I do. I can be dark. I _can_ be dark. Say it. Tell me I'm dark."

Spike whimpered, biting the insides of his right and left cheeks simultaneously to prevent himself from crying out— or just plain crying.

"Tell me!" Riley snarled, driving himself deeper as he leaned over Spike's bent form, his face now next to his. "Tell me," he demanded again in Spike's ear in a low, guttural tone.

"Fuck you, you bleedin' faggot!" Spike hated how ragged his voice sounded.

Riley just laughed at him, his pleasure building from Spike's overt distress and shame. His right hand still gripping Spike's head, Riley turned the vampire's face forcefully sideways in an attempt to force him to look at him. Spike stubbornly continued to look toward the ground, though Riley could see tears welling up in his eyes.

Even though the vampire refused to let any of the salty water spill, just to see the evidence of Spike's misery was enough to send Riley over the edge with a grunt. The knowledge that he had dominated the cocky vamp sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, and Riley collapsed on Spike, his weight sending the platinum blonde crashing to the floor.

Spike, feeling beyond contaminated, and yet somehow numb, shoved him weakly off. Ignoring the slight fire of the chip at that small act of violence, he rose up on his forearms, and tried to stand up. He stumbled slightly, his progress hindered by his own pants, still tangled around his knees. Once he managed to stand, he quickly pulled up the black denim, zipping and buckling in a trembling haste to cover himself.

"See, Spike? You were wrong." Riley had stood up as well, zipping up his pants. "I can be just as dark as anyone."

"Get out," Spike said quietly, picking up the bottle he had set down earlier with a shaking hand, able to think of nothing else that might help to dull the pain and shame of what had just happened to him.

"Just make sure you keep this little encounter to yourself, Messenger Boy. I'm sure you'd hate for me to show up at your door again— and next time I might be just a little further beyond reason," Riley said darkly, trying to mask his own bafflement at what just occurred.

If they didn't talk about it or mention it, it never really happened…right?

"I said, get…out!" Spike shouted in rage, involuntarily shifting into game face and throwing the bottle with such force that it shattered on the crypt wall, wine and shards of glass covering the floor.

Riley, startled by the display, walked stiffly to the door, opened it, and left without another word. As soon as the door had closed behind his attacker, uncontrollable shivers began to course through Spike's body. As he unconsciously started to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm himself, the scent of his blood and Riley's sweat and spendings assaulted him, making him feel the need to retch.

His moment of brief numbness was wearing off.

Ignoring the physical pain that was becoming increasingly apparent as each second ticked by, Spike pulled on his duster before going down to the lower level of his crypt, grabbing a fresh pair of pants, a shirt, and his blanket. With the clothes clenched in his hands, he headed through the tunnels to Giles' apartment.

He knew that the Watcher would probably be at the Magic Box, and that he would have free reign and solitude at his house at this time of day. He desperately needed to shower, and to have a drink of the good stuff that Giles always seemed to have on hand. That— and the Watcher's house was one place that he knew Finn wouldn't come looking for him.

Though Giles often complained about the wayward vamp barging into his home, he, like Buffy, had never revoked his invitation. In fact, during the past summer, he and Rupert had spent a lot of time together, watching soaps and listening to Giles' records. Ever since those months of quality time, Rupert had begun to leave his front door unlocked for Spike, leaving blood in his fridge for him, and hiding his good liquor.

Of course, he did a piss poor job of hiding the liquor from his pseudo-invited guest, and when he began to realize that, rather than revoke Spike's invitation, Giles had merely moved his more expensive bottles to alternative hidey holes in the magic shop.

Even so, a hot shower was calling Spike right now.

Smoking slightly, he burst into Giles' flat, shutting the door quickly behind him.

"Giles?" he called out solemnly, not really expecting an answer. He put his clothes down on the counter, waiting a moment just in case.

"Good," he muttered, tossing the blanket on the floor, and then stripped his coat off before laying it gently on the couch. He looked at his leather duster, his trophy of the triumph of what should have been impossible— beating not one, but _two_ Slayers.

But today, it all means nothing if a sorry git like white bread could…

Even though he knew he had a handicap, and that there was only so much he could have done to protect himself, Spike felt beyond disappointed that he had not been able to stop him.

With a grim expression on his face, he stomped up the stairs and headed for the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he locked it and began to take off his clothes. Turning the water on hot, he stepped under the flowing streams of scalding water, watching as rivulets of watered blood ran down his legs and swirled into the drain.

He carefully lathered his entire body, gently grazing over his wounded backside, all the while grimacing as his hands touched the sorest spots. He washed his hair as well as his body, repeated the entire process seven times, and still felt unclean.

By that point, the water had cooled considerably, and he figured that he was as clean as he was going to get— though he still felt filthy and dirty and used. Enraged, he took out his frustration on the tiles, the jagged ceramic pieces clattering against bottom of the tub. Spike gritted his teeth, extending his arms of tense, corded muscle, and braced his knuckles against the wall, trying to calm down.

"No need to take it out of Giles' pocket, is there?"

He turned off the cool water, and stepped onto the rug, dampening it as water ran off him. He didn't spy a clean towel, and opened the door, going out into the hallway stark naked, heading to the linen closet. He grabbed one of the thicker ones, forest green, and wrapped it around his hips, then headed back into the bathroom, and noticed the pile of dirty clothes lying discarded on the floor.

He picked up the shirt and bloodied pants with the least amount of contact as possible by using his thumb and forefinger, and then headed down the stairs, grabbing Giles' steel trashcan on his way out to the back porch. Luckily, the porch was shaded, and he stepped outside, placing both articles of clothing into the can.

"Oh. Right," he muttered a bit listlessly, gingerly reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his lighter.

Realizing he needed an accelerant, he went back into the apartment and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. As he headed to the back porch once again, he twisted off the cap, and took a quick swig. With a sniff of indifference, he poured the rest onto the clothing. He lit a corner of the shirt, and watched as it went up in flames, illuminating the shadows of the porch.

He sighed as the heavy, dark smoke began to fill the air, and then headed back into the house solemnly, getting two glasses of water to put the fire out. He left the charred remains of the shirt and pants behind him.

* * *

"Breakdown" 

Spike, after having put on the fresh clothes, realized that he had nothing to do. He felt antsy, as if he should be doing something. Oh, he knew what he'd _like_ to do—seek vengeance against that wanker, Finn, for what he'd done to him.

But in his current state, that didn't seem plausible.

He realized that he didn't have his smokes, and he _really_ needed a fag just then. Or some really good bourbon, and neither were available in the Watcher's apartment.

He supposed that he could go see Giles— after all, the good liquor _was _at the Magic Box, and… he needed to apologize for breaking the tiles. Yes— never mind that he was so tightly wound that he was ready to snap at any minute.

_It'd be bloody awful if Giles came home and saw the mess, all shocked and whatnot, and threw me out. Best to go explain it to him now_.

With no further thought, he threw on his duster, grabbed his blanket, and headed to the shop.

Giles had just been straightening a few books while Anya attended to a customer when Spike came into the shop through the basement door. There was a look on his face that greatly disturbed Giles— it was one of a false calm tinged with apprehension.

Giles wasn't sure what to think of it.

"Spike?"

"Watcher. Mind if I talk to you— alone?" he asked, glancing nervously in the direction of the training room.

"Of course." Giles followed him into the room, taking a subconscious note of the vampire's slightly wide legged walk, and then closed the door behind him. "Want to tell me what this is about?"

"I… used your shower today." Spike's shoulders were slumped, and his hands were shoved deeply into the pockets of his coat. It was then that Giles noticed the curls that adorned his head, as if whatever had brought him there had not given him time to worry with his appearance as he usually did. Spike always took great care of slicking back his unruly curls, for in the vamp's opinion, he didn't want to appear "poncy." As he studied the blonde's demeanor, he suddenly realized that he looked incredibly… vulnerable.

To Giles, that was a thought that was more than a little disturbing.

"Okay. I suppose I should expect damp towels or something of the like littering my bathroom floor then?"

"No. Well, yea, but um… you should also expect some broken tiles in the shower."

"Broken… why? What happened?" Giles frowned, the beginnings of irritation in his voice, though his rising concern kept it mostly at bay for the moment.

"Punching a wall with tiles usually has that effect. But what with my vampire strength and all, there're some holes in the plaster too."

"Holes in the— Spike! Why on earth would you do such a thing?" Giles allowed some of his irritation to show as he glared indignantly at the strangely evasive vampire. Spike looked away from him, ashamed. Curious, Giles stepped a bit closer.

"You were clearly upset about something," he observed. "What happened?"

Spike laughed bitterly, before remarking with no little irony, "Got my virtue sullied, didn't I?"

"Got your… what?" Giles' face expressed nothing but confusion, as he searched Spike's eyes, shaking his head, at a loss.

Spike turned furious eyes on Giles, his anger visibly rising in his face, his trembling hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides as all of the pain and humiliation of the past few hours came boiling up within him all at once, pouring out with his frustration.

With a roar, he turned his wrath on the pommel horse in the center of the room, kicking it onto its side before stomping on it, breaking the wooden frame and legs.

"Spike— stop it! Enough!" Giles tried to stop him in his most severe tone, reaching toward him as if to stop him physically.

But Spike ignored him, turning his attentions to the punching bag instead, bludgeoning it blow after blow with his fists until the sand exploded from the split seams. Growling at not having that to hit either, he turned to the brick wall, punching it in rapid succession as tears streamed down his chiseled cheeks, the flesh tearing from his knuckles that were now stained with blood.

Giles' firm grip on his shoulder, shouting his name, finally pulled Spike back from his blind rage. Spike turned and looked blankly at the Watcher, almost as if just realizing that he was in the room. As his eyes slowly registered the overt worry and concern on his face, Spike's face slowly crumpled, and he began to weep openly, his grief causing his knees to give out under him. As he accidentally collapsed onto Giles, the other man held him steady.

"I couldn't stop him…" Spike mumbled onto his shoulder.

"Who?" Giles questioned softly.

"Fi—"

"What the hell is going on here? And the breaking of merchandise! Well, technically, this isn't apart of the Magic Box, and I can't sell these things since they're Buffy's and… is there some sort of homosexual relationship between the two of you? Cause really, I never would've expected—"

"Anya—please get me the bottle under the counter," Giles interrupted her. Anya's brow furrowed, and she looked at Spike with a tilt of her head.

"Is… is he okay?" Anya asked at last, wringing her hands together in apprehension.

"No, I rather think not. The bottle, please, Anya." Sensing the heavy atmosphere of the room and the strange mood of the Watcher, she nodded, closed the door and left them.

Giles lead the now silent vampire over to the couch. Tears still flowed from his eyes, but we wiped at them angrily as he struggled for control. Giles watched as Spike slowly sat down, gingerly sitting back on the cushions with a wince.

"What happened?" Giles queried gently.

"Last night, I took the Slayer to one of those… vamp whore houses Downtown. She didn't know it, but her tin soldier had taken up spending quite a bit of time there as of late." Spike's voice was strangely level and calm, as if he knew that if he lost control again for even a moment, that fount of rage would come pouring out again, resulting in further destruction— or perhaps just further humiliation.

"Bloody hell," Giles muttered to himself.

"Yea. So, Finn stops by to visit me today for ratting him out. Thought he was just gonna yell and punch me a few times, but… He took it further than that."

"Further than that? How… Oh dear." Giles whipped his glasses off of his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose as the horrible truth dawned on him.

"He… raped you?"

Spike's silence said it all.

"'S not like I can complain, can I? I've done a lot of bad in my day, so karma comes back for me and maybe I deserved it. Doesn't mean I had to like it though." Spike hung his head, shaking it as he clasped his hands on the back of his neck.

"Spike, you most certainly didn't deserve—"

"It isn't supposed to be this way! This bloody chip…" Spike gritted his teeth, forcing back the sob that rose in his throat.

"He still had no right to violate you. No right at all," Giles said darkly, disgusted at Riley's actions.

_Dear lord, I'll have to tell Buffy…_

"Can I stay at your place for awhile? I… don't feel safe at... Unfortunately, there aren't dis-invite spells for humans."

"Or for raping little sods, either," Giles said with disdain. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need, Spike."

Grateful, Spike opened his mouth to reply— but before he could, an irate Slayer barged into the room.

sssssss

Anya looked at the bottle of amber liquid, and frowned to herself.

Spike looked so incredibly broken, that she wasn't sure how to handle the situation. She'd seen him bitch and moan, mope, gripe, rant, be furious… But she'd never seen him weak.

_Something awful must've happened._

She found two clean glasses, sighing morosely when she couldn't find a third. An idea formed in her head, and quietly, she approached the training room door, and put her ear to it, listening intently. All she heard were the low rumblings of the two Brit's voices. Scowling, she headed back to the counter, grabbed one of the glasses and then bee lined straight for the training room door again, putting the glass against it, eyes squinted in concentration.

As the bell chimed above the door, Anya's head shot up guiltily and saw a not so pleasant looking Buffy enter. With her leather pants and black sweater, she looked ready to start a fight.

"Anya, what's going on? Where's Giles?" the Slayer asked. Anya gave her a look of false cheer.

"Oh, Giles? Pfft. What do you need him for? He's… an old fuddy duddy. Totally un-hip." Buffy's eyebrows shot up, and she noticed the bottle of bourbon on the counter in her peripheral.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No," Anya said, slowly moving away from the training room door.

"Is he in there?" Buffy didn't wait for an answer, and advanced towards the door.

"I, um… wait." Anya held her hand out to her. "He's busy. Spike came in, and—"

"Spike? Came to spread the good news, I suppose," Buffy said sarcastically more to herself than Anya. "He is so dead." Buffy went around Anya, reaching for the door handle.

"Buffy, wait—" But Buffy had already opened the door, and the destroyed equipment was the first thing to catch her eye. Then she saw Giles and Spike sitting side by side on the couch.

"What the hell is going on?"

Giles looked up at his charge, clearly startled, while Spike's jaws began to clench involuntarily.

"I tried to stop her, honest," Anya explained from behind Buffy.

"Quite alright, Anya," Giles said soothingly as Spike stood up slowly.

"Uh, Rupes, mind if I take the bottle with me?" Giles nodded his assent. As Spike headed for the doorway into the shop, the petite Slayer blocked his path.

"You know, it's bad enough that you had to show me… But you had to tell Giles too? It wasn't your _place_," she said with a slight shake of her head.

"I'm well aware of my place, thanks." He tried to walk around her, but she grabbed his wrist—not so hard to hurt, but enough to stop him.

"You wanna make fun of me and my pathetic situation, fine. But don't do it in front of my friends." Spike glared down at her, snatching his wrist out of her grasp.

"Funny how you think everything is about you, Summers. You can be such a blind bitch sometimes. Giles, I'll see you when you're done here." Without any other comment, he stormed away, leaving behind a weary and angry Giles, a baffled Buffy, and a solemn Anya.

"That's it. He is so—"

"Enough, Buffy," Giles said firmly as he stood up and walked towards her. Buffy turned astonished eyes to him.

"You're actually _defending _him? After he called me a—"

"Yes, well, he's not exactly himself at the moment."

"What? Rude and insulting? Seemed like Spike to me," Buffy argued.

Giles pursed his lips in thought, knowing that Spike would want confidentiality, even if he hadn't voiced it. And yet…

_Buffy deserves to know what had become of her… boyfriend_

Giles shuddered at the very thought of what Riley still was to his Slayer, in light of what he now knew about him.

"Spike told me what Riley has been doing most nights." Buffy's eyes widened before darkening in anger at the vamp, while Anya remained quiet, hoping to get the full story.

"He also said that Riley, in his… frustration, came to see him earlier today."

"What, he beat him up or something? Punched him a few times? Big deal, Giles. There are more important things at hand—like why didn't you tell me about those vamp places Downtown?"

Giles took off his glasses once again, and busied himself with a thorough polishing, but his heart just wasn't in it. Exhaling a silent sigh, he put them back on his face.

"He did a lot more than hit Spike," he said quietly and clearly, and both bottle blondes heard exactly what he _didn't_ say.

"Oh god," Anya whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Wait—what are you saying?" Buffy asked, sounding for all the world like a young girl who learned that Santa was indeed fiction, and that monsters, though in human form, were real.

"He… Spike made it quite clear to me that Riley raped him," he said as he looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Buffy."

Buffy shook her head at him, and to the insane notion that Riley would ever…

"No, he's lying."

"I don't believe he was." Giles gave her that look of authority that made her feel small and powerless. It was one that said, "I know I'm right, and there's nothing you can do to change it."

Buffy swallowed. "How could Riley—"

"Spike's chipped, remember? He has no way of protecting himself. And because he was angry at Spike for telling his dirty secret to you, he decided to take full advantage of that fact. And I must tell you Buffy, this whole thing is… Who knows who else he's violated? Spike can't formerly press charges, but something has to be done."

Buffy agreed; something had to be done. Though all she felt in that moment was the extreme sensation to vomit.

* * *

"Wait and Bleed" 

Buffy walked past Anya from the training room into the Magic Box in a daze, going to the counter to use the phone.

_Oh god. No, it's a lie – only -- it's not. Riley raped Spike. He's a rapist. He's a monster. Riley's a monster. My boyfriend. Riley. I feel sick. Oh god…_

Giles and Anya watched in solemn silence as Buffy picked up the phone and calmly dialed a number.

"Hello? Dawn? Can you put mom on the phone? Don't worry about why—just…can you get her?" Buffy paused, her expression hardening in a way that only a little sister could evoke – but at the moment, she did not feel she had the strength to argue with Dawn.

"Can you put her on the phone _please_?" she conceded, and then was silent again for a moment, waiting for her mother to come to the phone.

"Mommy? Hey, can you do me a huge favor? If Riley comes by… don't let him in, okay? No, just… tell him I'm busy or something, and that I'll call him later. And please, _don't_ let him in. I'll explain later. No, I'm not all right. But thanks for asking."

Buffy hung up on her mother, silencing her prodding questions for the moment.

"Giles? He's staying at your place?" she asked, all the while staring toward the door.

"Yes."

Buffy nodded silently, and started to leave.

"Buffy…"

She paused, her shoulders slumping as she slowly turned to face Giles and Anya.

"You do realize that he is the victim in this situation?"

Buffy nodded, adding, "I just want to talk to him. Not that there's…" she allowed her voice to trail off, unsure of how to finish her thought.

"You'll stop at home and shower first, right?"

Buffy and Giles both turned their eyes toward Anya at her strange inquiry.

"No. Why?"

"It's just…you may want to do that— the showering. Wash your hair, too."

"And again with the why?"

"Buffy, Spike's a rape victim—a _vampire_ rape victim seeking sanctuary at Giles'. Do you honestly think that you walking in, having his attacker's scent all over you will be in any way comforting?"

Buffy's face fell, and she felt a fresh wave of sickness over come her. She vowed in that moment to never let Riley touch her again. "All right," she agreed a bit listlessly, and then left without a backwards glance, or another word.

"What do you suppose she'll do?" Anya asked Giles, who was still looking out the door through which his charge had just gone.

"I don't know, Anya. I just don't know…"

sssssss

Riley walked home in a daze, trying to make sense in his head of the events that had just occurred—the events which he had caused to happen.

He had had no intention of doing that when he went there—honestly.

He had been angry, and felt justified in going to the crypt to rough the cocky vampire up a bit. After all, it was clear that he had only done what he did so that he could get Riley out of the way, and have Buffy all to himself. Did he honestly expect for Riley to just lie there and take it?

Perhaps. But in the end, it was Spike who had…

Riley shook off the thought, the image of Spike on all fours beneath him, the muffled sounds of his cries of anguish… His body had felt incredibly cool, although the blood he had recently drank, coming forth from his torn tissues, had felt slightly warm as it had coated Riley, easing his hard thrusts into him.

Riley hopped into the shower as soon as he made it back to his apartment, desperate to get the blood off of him. He felt conflicted, though he wasn't sure why, because at the end of the day, Spike didn't matter—he was nothing but a thing—an evil, disgusting,_ thing_ that Buffy wouldn't give the time of day.

Not that it would matter—Riley was certain that the vampire would keep the events that transpired between the two of them to himself, not that anyone would believe him anyway. Between the two of them, Spike would be the one viewed as a liar—and a habitual one at that.

The ex-soldier stepped out of the shower and headed to his dresser. He had a girlfriend to see and make amends with. But for whatever reason, should things not go as planned, and Buffy rebuked him, he had a back up plan.

_Someone_ was going to welcome him with open arms…

sssssss

"Buffy, what's going on?" Her mother accosted her as soon as she swung the front door open. Buffy figured that she must have been waiting by the window for her to come home, as she took in her mother's furrowed brow and look of concern.

"Nothing…nothing, mom. I have to go take a shower, and then I'm heading back out," she replied, heading toward the stairs.

"Buffy Anne Summers, you come back here right now," Joyce demanded, sighing in relief as Buffy turned back to face her.

"What?"

Joyce finally noticed how utterly drained her oldest daughter looked—how rundown…discouraged…_lost_. Her slight anger at Buffy turning away from her evolved into maternal concern once again, and a bit sheepish at her own outburst.

"Well it's just…you look so—and you sounded so upset on the phone. And why can't Riley come in the house? Did you two have an argument? Did you…break up?"

"Not yet."

"And you don't want him in the house?"

"No!"

"Why, honey?"

Buffy's face crumpled as she swallowed back her tears. "He isn't…it's not safe to be around him. Especially if I'm not here."

"Not safe? Why—"

"Please, I don't wanna talk about it."

"Did he hurt you? Hit you?" Joyce felt her defensive maternal anger rise once again at the thought of her baby being hurt.

"No, not me…he just can't be trusted, Mom. He…hurt a defenseless being. And I don't want him around you and Dawn. I don't know what he's capable of anymore."

"A defenseless…" Joyce's voice trailed off momentarily, as she realized who Buffy had to be talking about. "Spike? He attacked him? Why?"

"I don't…I can't—not now. I have to go shower." Buffy practically fled up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the bathroom as Joyce watched in a contemplative silence.

Neither noticed the young brunette peeking around the corner of the kitchen doorway. Though she had heard every word, she wasn't exactly sure what it all meant.

But she definitely intended to find out.

sssssss

Spike lay on his stomach, intermittently swigging from the bottle, his head facing away from the door. He sighed when he heard the knob twist, the door swinging open gently.

"Watcher…didn't think you'd be back so quick."

"It's me, Spike."

His eyes widened at the intruder's voice, and his jaw clenched as he pushed up on his hands, rising up slowly. With awkward, painfully careful movements, he stood up and headed toward the other side of the room—hoping that she would stay on her respective side, keeping her slight Captain A-rapist-a scent with her. He turned to face her just as she shut the door.

"What are you doin' here, Slayer? Come to harass me some more?" His eyes squinted slightly as he took in her wet hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and fresh change of clothes. It was the first time he'd seen her without her bouncy, shampoo commercial hair.

She slowly eased her way towards him, attempting not to flinch at his odd, slightly wide legged walk. Watching his face carefully, she replied in a soft, cautious voice, "I went home, after the Magic Box." She looked down at her attire, fingering the hem of her baby blue, long sleeved sweater. "I showered and changed. I…I didn't wanna offend you."

He looked her over with curiosity in his eyes, slowly approaching her until they were face to face.

"You smell like Caress," he said, his voice as soft as his expression.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

His eyes widened slightly before suddenly, deliberately shifting to a cooler demeanor. "Just guessin'."

Buffy shoved her hands deep into her pockets, looking down again. She couldn't seem to look him in the eyes, and this troubled him greatly. Swallowing the imaginary lump in his throat, Spike lifted his hand, placing his fingers lightly beneath her chin, making her raise her head. She looked at him with large, sad, teary doe eyes, her bottom lip trembling.

"What's wrong, luv?"

His voice felt like silk, gently caressing her.

"Giles…he told me." She looked away again for a moment, ashamed. Spike dropped his hand to his side, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I'm so sorry."

Spike grit his teeth, wishing his embarrassment away. It was fruitless, of course. "Not your fault," he mumbled, turning away from her.

Somehow, his turning away gave her a courage she had lacked before, a determination to somehow make this easier for him.

"Hey…" She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, causing his back to stiffen for a second before he suddenly gave in, allowing them to slump wearily, as if all of the energy required for resistance had been drained from him in that moment. He still kept his back to her, unwilling to allow her to see the shame in his eyes.

"I am so sorry, Spike. If I had known—"

"You didn't. No worries."

Buffy walked around, standing in front of him, silently insisting on meeting his eyes. "But I do now. And I swear to you, he will _never_ touch you again."

Spike gave her a wry smile, unable to hide the surprise in his terribly vulnerable blue eyes. "So, what then—you my sworn protector, now?"

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so," she replied, deciding so just as she said the words. "Against humans, at least. You find yourself in a tiff with a demon, then you're on your own, pal."

"Fair enough, Summers."

In that instant, an unspoken message passed between the two of them, causing them both to head to the couch without a word. Spike sat down gingerly on one end and Buffy on the cushion next to his.

"Drink?" Spike held out the half empty bottle to her, desperate to break the suddenly awkward silence that had fallen over them.

"But it's still kinda early." Buffy consulted her watch; it was only five past six.

"Yea, but no better time like the present, luv."

Buffy glanced at him sideways, holding her hand out to him for the bottle.

"Thata girl," Spike said with approval, placing it in her hand.

She took a healthy swig, following it with a "blaaah, ugh!" making a horrible face accompanied by the shake of her head at the awful, bitter flavor. Even so, she took another swig, thinking she'd get used to the taste.

She didn't.

"My throat and my gut feels all… warm." She took another small sip before passing it back to him.

"Eat anything?"

"What?"

"Did you eat something? Breakfast? A snack?"

Buffy shook her head dumbly at him.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. Can't have alcohol like this on an empty stomach. That, and I'm sure you've got a piss poor constitution, as small as you are."

"I may be short, but I pack a _mean_ punch," she retorted, lightly hitting him in the bicep with her fist.

"And who'd know that better than me?" he asked with an arch of his brow.

Buffy's thoughts darkened, as she looked away from him, her eyes narrowing with a grim, smoldering anger.

_I'm thinking Riley's gonna find out _real_ soon_…


	2. Part Two

**AN: Thanks to Mita427 and socialitegirl ;)**

"The Virus of Life"

…_You're relaxed, you're so blind, you're amazing.  
You don't even know the danger you're facing.  
If I'm quiet, I'll slide up behind you-  
And if you hear me I'll enjoy trying to find you…_

_Slipnot_

* * *

Less than twenty minutes after Buffy's less than forthcoming explanation, Joyce and Dawn saw her flee once again from their place on the couch in the living room. Except this time, instead of running up the stairs to the bathroom, Buffy ran down the stairs and out the door, refusing to talk to either of them. Dawn watched from her peripheral vision as her mother shook her head, rising from the couch. 

"Mom, where are you going? I thought we were gonna watch the movie?"

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. I just…I have to go make a phone call," her mother explained, heading for the stairs.

"You're going to your room for privacy, huh?"

"Well, sweetie…yes."

Dawn decided to not ask any more questions, already knowing that she wasn't going to get a straightforward answer.

"Okay. But when all of my fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches are gone, don't look at me," Dawn threatened lightly, taking another bite from her experimental snack.

Joyce made a face that fell somewhere between a grimace and a smile. "I'm sure that I'll be missing out. Maybe we can order a pizza for dinner?" On Dawn's nod of approval, she made her way upstairs.

Dawn waited several minutes after her mom left, flipping from the originally planned film "Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion" to see what else was on.

The black and white scene, apparently taken with a modern day camera, caught her eye mid-flip. That— and the male nakedness of the full frontal variety in the scene gave her pause as well. Dawn quickly turned the volume down a bit, as she leaned forward on the couch, glancing nervously toward the stairs. She listened intently, relieved when she didn't hear her mother's footsteps returning just yet.

She turned her eyes back to the television screen, and saw that guy from "Keeping the Faith." He was naked too. She frowned when she saw the large, dark swastika covering his entire left pec, along with other racially-themed tats covering his upper body. Dawn surmised he was in a prison shower, due to the guard in the corner and all. She gasped as she saw his naked rear end, and lower torso as the camera angle changed; desperate hope born of her curiosity about the male anatomy made her long for the camera to go just a bit lower…

The camera cut to the guard, leaving the shower room along with the rest of the inmates as a group of men entered, coming up behind the guy she recognized from the romantic comedy. One slammed him into the wall as he screamed a "fuck you!" as three others joining the first man. Each grabbed an arm or a leg, pinning his naked form to the tiled shower wall, making sure to hold his legs apart.

The scene literally slowed down as a really big guy threw a towel around the restrained man's neck, yanking his head back. The look in his eyes was that of power, lust and hate all rolled into one. Dawn's heart raced as she watched the scene unfold.

_Wanna be a nigger, sweet boy?_

_Fuck you!_

_We gonna treat you like one._

_No!_

_Come on!_

Dawn sat in silent horror, mouth slightly agape and suddenly dry as the large man rammed into him, raping him. Though the sound on the television was low, his cries of pain were still audible enough to be terribly disturbing. His face, contorted in sorrow and hurt as he weakly tried to yell another "fuck you", broke something in her, and she felt tears welling in her eyes at the horrible injustice of it all, especially the way that the guard just turned a blind eye to it all, closing the door to give the rapists privacy.

It had never occurred to her that something like that could happen to a man. The scene was so disturbing, that she forgot all about the many penises that were being shown, and found herself sitting there, a few tears traveling down her face as she waited for it to end.

_That was_ real _sweet._

_Fuck you!_

The rapist slammed his victim's head into the wall, knocking him out. The camera showed him sprawled on the floor as blood ran from his temple where it had hit the wall, and from…from his…

It wasn't fair—he had been outnumbered, and completely defenseless…

_Defenseless… _

Something was niggling at the back of Dawn's mind, but she couldn't quite figure it out.

_It only took six stitches._

Dawn gasped aloud when she realized what the doctor on the television screen was referring to.

She dropped the remote when she heard someone knocking at the door. Shaken, but quickly gathering her wits about her, she picked it back up quickly, looking for something mild and innocuous—stopping when she found a children's program on Nickelodeon.

Dawn quickly wiped at her eyes as she headed for the door, tucking her long, brown hair back behind her ears as someone knocked at the door again.

"All right, I'm coming!" she called out, placing her hand on the knob. She opened it, and furrowed her brow at the person on the other side. The thoughts whispering at the back of her mind grew a bit louder as things slowly began to click into place.

"Hey, Dawnie. Buffy home?"

_sssssss_

"God, I cannot wait until this menopause is over. When is this period going to end?" Joyce asked herself, frustrated at being in the bathroom so long just because she had to change again. She had anxiously wanted to call Giles, but nature called her first, demanding that the Aunt Flow situation be remedied immediately. She rolled her eyes at how rapidly she was going through her Kotex, having been on her period almost two weeks already, as she put the purple box back in the cabinet underneath the bathroom sink.

She washed her hands, contemplating how exactly she would ask Giles what exactly was going on in her daughter's love life. If there was anyone who would be privy to such information, it would be him or Willow. Joyce sighed—one way or another, Buffy always ended up being a complete mystery to her, or a complete stranger, depending upon one's perspective on things.

She hadn't been aware of her being the Slayer for so long, hadn't been aware of Angel, had only vaguely known of Riley until the past summer…and now it turned out that the guy had some sort of violent streak, for some reason or other deeming it fit to beat up on a vampire who literally couldn't touch him—at least, not in a harmful manner, anyway.

Truth be told, Joyce was quite fond of the unusual vampire. He was an excellent conversationalist, and knowledgeable about so many things—history and philosophy, and traveling, for he'd been to so many places. He had excellent taste in music, and knew lots of pertinent (although mundane) information in regards to "Passions."

In certain aspects, he reminded her of Ripper.

Joyce chuckled at the similarities between the two as she sat down on her bed. Then she quickly sobered at the thought as she recalled Ripper…and the handcuffs…and the police car…

_Really not going there. But Spike's not so bad. If he were human and employed, why'd he be perfect…  
_

She laughed to herself as she imagined Buffy's reaction to that particular thought—a mortified look accompanied by an "oh, _gross_ mom!" Or possibly an "if you like him so much, then _you_ date him," which would be a fruitless statement, because by then, her daughter would most certainly have threatened to stake him. She wasn't sure why Buffy and the others talked badly about him so much—he truly was a pleasure to have around.

"He's much more fun than Angel, and Riley's as dull as ditchwater sometimes," she thought aloud, not realizing that she had picked up the phrase from the platinum blonde. She bit her lower lip as she picked up the phone, dialing the Magic Box.

Four rings later, someone answered.

"You've reached the Magic Box, how may I help you?"

"Giles? It's Joyce."

"Joyce? How are you?"

"I'm fine— it's Buffy I'm concerned about. She had some kind of falling out with Riley, and said that it wasn't safe to be around him. Do you know anything about that?"

There was a terribly long silence on the other line, followed by a clearing of the Watcher's throat. "Well, um, I…I'm not sure—"

"Rupert, please," she pleaded with him. "What's happened?"

Giles sighed into the phone. "Oh, dear. It appears that Riley has…taken up quite a few nefarious activities as of late."

"What kind of 'activities?' Buffy told me not to let him in the house."

"I suppose that's for the best." He was really saying the statement to himself, momentarily forgetting the woman on the phone as he thought back on an uncharacteristically unwound Spike.

"Why? What did he do? Buffy mentioned Spike—"

"She did? What did she say?"

"She mentioned something about Riley attacking him, but was very vague and then ran off. Literally. Is Spike hurt? Does he need some kind of help?"

Giles smiled slightly to himself at her overt concern for the vampire. "He's…he'll be all right. He's staying with me for the time being."

"Oh. That's nice of you. But you still haven't told me what happened."

There was another of those awkward pauses from the shopkeeper, and Joyce just waited patiently, knowing that he would eventually give in to her and answer.

When he did, however, she wished he hadn't.

Joyce was disturbed, to say the least, when he explained what had transpired between her daughter's beau and the vampire, and the events of the vampire bites that had led up to the incident. She grasped at the neckline of her shirt in worry, not sure how, or if it was even possible to make this right— not for Riley, of course, but for her daughter, and for Spike.

It was times like this when she found herself forced to reevaluate the definition of "monster."

Spike managed to fit less and less into that category of late, but never had she fathomed that the ex-soldier could be defined as such himself. Riley was supposed to have been safe, solid and potential husband material. But that was officially over now. Joyce swore that if the lumbering bastard ever came near one of her babies again, there would be hell to pay.

It wasn't until after she had ended her conversation with Giles that she realized that she had unconsciously included Spike on that list.

_sssssss_

After her extremely late night of partying, Harmony made her way through the tunnels (to avoid the now setting sun) back to the crypt, and her blondie bear. She was warm and full from a recent meal, and more than eager to share the warmth with her pseudo-boyfriend.

"Spikey! Your Harmony honey is baaack," she called up to him after seeing he wasn't on the lower level. She was halfway up the ladder when she realized that he wasn't home, and with a pout, decided to wait for him in her lingerie in the easy chair and watch a bit of television until he came back. Or take a nap, and have him pleasantly wake her up…

Her thoughts dissolved into dust as the aroma of sex and blood infiltrated her nostrils. She breathed in deeply as she surfaced on the upper level, walking around the crypt until she made it into the center of the room, where the scents were strongest.

She frowned as she smelled Spike, blood, cum, and a scent that was familiar, though she couldn't exactly place it. When she realized how much of a feminine scent it was _not_, her frown turned into a grimace, knowing that her Spike would never do such a thing.

"Spike's _so_ not into guy-on-guy action," she thought to herself, recalling their conversation about a three way. She squatted down, closer to the scents, and inhaled deeply, shuddering slightly as her mind darted off to a more than dark place at the possibilities of what could have happened to him.

_At least there's no dust—that's something_.

She closed her eyes, and inhaled slowly once again, concentrating. Her eyes flew open as the image in her mind's eye connected her to the distinct smell. Yes, though she wasn't terribly familiar with the scent, she _knew_. His sweat and his stink was all over the room, just as it had been that night of Spike's failed attempt at removing his chip.

_The Slayer's boyfriend_.

Harmony's expression hardened as comforting thoughts of vengeance filtered through her brain…

* * *

"Duality" 

"Riley? What are you doing here?" Dawn asked, holding the door with one hand while using her body to take up the narrow space the open door created, essentially blocking his entrance.

"Well, I came to see my girlfriend—your sister?" he stated slowly, talking to her as if she were five or something.

Her eyes narrowed.

"She's not here. And even if she was, she doesn't want to see you, apparently. What did you do to Spike?" To her credit, despite her anger with him, she sounded nothing more than genuinely curious, but the inquiry caught Riley off guard, his expression immediately turning sour.

"Why? What have you heard?" he demanded.

"That you took advantage of his chip and the fact that he's all…"

_Defenseless…attacked Spike…_

…_six stitches_

_Fuck you!_

Dawn slammed her eyes shut at the images in her mind, horrified as suddenly she could see Spike instead of the guy from the romantic comedy in those showers, and Riley behind him in the place of his attacker…

Her voice was barely over a whisper, her eyes widening as they came back into focus on the ex-soldier standing in front of her.

"What did you do?"

Riley's expression went swiftly from sour to strong indignation.

"Nothing he didn't deserve," he retorted. "He's just a _thing_ Dawnie. A monster—"

"Nothing he didn't _deserve_? What does that mean? What did you do?" she repeated quietly, her breath quickening with apprehension.

"It's not your concern."

All signs of emotion drained from Dawn's face at his impatient, dismissive words. "No, I suppose it's not," she admitted. "But my sister said that you aren't welcome here anymore, because she isn't so sure what you're capable of. And yet, Spike is still allowed in our home. Buffy's always made sure to drill it into my brain that monsters of any kind are not allowed or invited here ever. And suddenly, you're off the invite list, and Spike's not."

Her façade of indifference broke, and her eyes narrowed in anger and hurt as she concluded coldly, "And that tells me that you must've done something _awfully horrible_ to him in order for her to do that. Now go away."

As Dawn began to close the door, Riley put his hand against the top of it, pushing it just enough so that it stayed slightly open.

"Look, whatever you've heard…" his voice trailed off at the girl's look of fright.

Dawn began pushing on the door in earnest, using her full weight to lean on the door.

It was useless, of course, against his greater strength.

"Dawn—"

"No! Go away! Get away from here!" she yelled, sliding against the wooden floor of the hall because of the socks that covered her feet.

Riley ignored her words, pushing a bit harder, causing the opening in the doorway to widen by about an inch or so – but it was enough to push Dawn off balance, making her slide down and crash to her knees, her hands slapping stingingly against the varnished planks.

"Dawn, are you okay? I didn't mean to—"

Dawn looked up at him through the curtain of her hair, wincing at the pain in her knees. She turned sideways, relieving the pressure and stress of her weight from her bruised shins and onto the sides of her folded legs, as she tucked her hair behind her ears, looking at the floor, embarrassment making her unwilling to look at him.

"Here, let me help you."

"No, don't touch me," she commanded softly, her voice trembling. "Get out."

Riley shook his head, refusing to leave things this way. He had to make it right.

"No, I'm going to help you." He bent forward, grasping her shoulders to help her stand.

Her head whipped up toward his, and he saw the overt fear in large, wet, blue eyes. And then– he felt something triggered inside of him by that fearful, vulnerable look, in his newfound "dark place," and breathed out a soft, involuntary groan into her face. She winced in distaste as the scent of his hot, mint Listerine breath assaulted her sense of smell.

Dawn recognized the change in him immediately. She recognized it, and yet didn't know what it was; she just knew that she didn't like what she saw, and was beyond scared of what it could mean, in light of her growing suspicions of what Riley had already done to her friend.

"No," she whimpered as he stared at her, his expression, though disturbing and creepy, still unreadable as to his intent.

Riley mentally shook himself, placing Dawn carefully on her feet.

"'No' what?" He turned his head away from her, taking a step back. He put his hands on his hips, looking at her again, his expression remorseful.

"I would never hurt you, Dawn. Or Buffy, your mom—"

"And Spike? What about him?"

Riley's lips thinned into a straight line. "You have a crush on him, don't you?"

Dawn's eyes widened at the question, silently admitting that the answer was yes.

"He's not worth it," Riley sneered softly. "He's less than nothing. It'd serve you well to remember that."

On that note, he turned and left, closing the door behind him. Dawn didn't know whether to sigh in relief or to cry at the horrifying truth she had just learned. Even without knowing the details, she knew now what had happened between Spike and Riley. She now recognized the look that Riley had given her as he had grasped her shoulders, his warm breath an uncomfortable intruder on her face.

It was the thrill of power and lust, feeding off of her fear of him.

Just like the rapist in the film.

Dawn felt her knees begin to give out on her, and she eased down onto the bottom step of the staircase, waiting for her mom to come back downstairs— and hopefully make her world right again.

_sssssss_

Buffy found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, Spike lying sideways on it facing her. She had the now half-empty bottle of alcohol to her lips again, and at this point found the taste to be…not so bad. It still left a burning trail down her throat, but she didn't notice that as much by now, being just this side of tipsy and all.

"Ya know, this floor is _way_ uncomfortable. You are _so_ sharing that couch, Mister."

"I'm really not sure there's enough room up here for two people, pet, what with me lying down and all," he slurred out in response.

"Well suck it up, bleach boy, cause I'm sure my ass is getting numb, and cushions are comfy." She got up slowly, groaning to herself as the room swayed just a tad to the right of her usual line of vision.

At least, it seemed like it did.

Maybe it was _her_ swaying.

She lay down alongside him, facing him, and promptly pouted as the feeling of being on the edge of a cliff overwhelmed her. A look of dreaminess came over Spike at the plush bottom lip prominently on display and oh so close to him.

Buffy took no notice, of course.

"Feels like I'm gonna fall off, Spike."

He threw his arm across her at that, leveling his eyes with hers as he held her firmly against him, keeping her from falling, being her anchor.

"Better?"

"Kinda…" Her eyes brightened as an idea flickered across her mind.

"Oh! I know—get up for a sec."

"Oh, come on pet. I'm all comfy like about now." He gave her a pout to rival her own as he weakly protested.

"Stop being a baby," she admonished, pulling him over as she scooted underneath him, lying flat on her back. She positioned him comfortably above her, stretched out across her, their chests, torsos and pelvises melding together. Spike lay rigid as Buffy moved the leg closest to the couch up so that her knee rested against it, and the other up and over the back of Spike's leg, crisscrossing with it, and thus making her pelvis tilt upward. He stifled a groan, bringing his head down on the couch next to her neck so she couldn't witness his discomfort.

"There. All better now," she cooed with a sigh, stroking the back of his head lazily. "Or more comfortable anyway." She used her free hand to grab the abandoned bottle off the floor, taking another swig.

"Drink?" she offered when she had finished.

"God, yes," he murmured, taking the bottle from her as he lifted up slightly, having a healthy swig as well. After several seconds passed, noticing that now only a fourth of the bottle remained, as Spike continued to chug it down, Buffy snatched it from him, causing a bit of the amber liquid to dribble down his chin and splash onto her top. She took another swig herself before placing it on the floor next to the couch.

"That's it—I'm cutting you off. No more alcohol for you." She closed her eyes slightly, pulling him back down against her, his chin slightly resting on her shoulder, and resumed her stroking of his platinum curls.

"Didn't know your hair was so curly. It's totally adorable."

"Yea, and that's exactly why I don't usually neglect slicking those bloody curls into oblivion. Slayer?"

"Mm hmm?" Her voice was soft, her heartbeat slowing down to a strong and steady rhythm, and he knew that she was starting to doze off.

"What're you doin' here, luv?"

"Huh?" Her eyes opened slowly, and she pulled back a little, turning her head so that she could face him.

"I don't need or want your pity, love. And I don't want you here if you're jus' doin' it to assuage your guilt or somethin' like that. I'm fine, really."

Her brow scrunched up at that, but she held his gaze. "'Fine' is a four letter word, Spike. And I'm not…here for that. I'm not sure why I'm here, actually. I just felt like I should be, even if I… didn't know what to say. I feel awful for what happened to you, I won't lie, but at the same time…there's no way that I could've—that he would…I'm so furious with him…I'm sure it's not possible, but I wanted to try and make it right."

Spike sighed audibly, touching her still damp hair in slight fascination, trying to think of an appropriate response to her rambling but well-intentioned explanation.

"Bein' my drinkin' buddy's a damn good start."

Buffy smiled at that before pulling him to her again.

_sssssss_

Riley marched away from the Summers' home, overwhelmed with confusion, and driven by anger. Confusion, because of what he had felt when he had had Dawn in his grasp—her overt fear reminding him of the moment right before he had taken Spike. His jaw clenched in frustration as he tried to understand what he had come so close to doing– again.

It all had happened so quickly—the feeling of power as he had looked into her blue eyes, feeding off those fearful tears that had welled up there.

He had looked at her, and remembered Spike—_saw_ Spike— and it had been intoxicating.

_Spike._

This, all of this, was his fault. Losing Buffy, scaring Dawn, having his darkest secrets out in the open…

And for those reasons, he had to pay. The vampire was _going_ to pay.

With a grim expression on his face, Riley headed back to his apartment to retrieve a few supplies. After that, he would head to Restfield Cemetery.

He had a vampire to confront.

_sssssss_

Harmony, her expression one of pure determination born of rage, headed swiftly through the tunnels. Her destination was one of the many local demon bars down by the docks. The sun would set in another twenty minutes or so, and she figured that by the time she resurfaced to ground level, the sun would be low enough that she would be able to get in the front door without incident.

She knew that she had to act quickly, because as soon as it was nightfall, she had a mission to accomplish. She had to be swift, because the Slayer might be lurking about, ready to screw up her plans— though that didn't mean that it couldn't still be as painful as her intended victim deserved.

_Maybe I'll have time to pick up a camera. Gotta cherish those memories._

"That soldier prick is _so_ gonna pay for even thinking to lay a hand on my blondie bear."

She unconsciously shifted into game face, craving blood…

* * *

"Guiding the Blade" 

"So, you told Joyce," Anya observed from directly behind Giles. Judging by her extreme proximity, he knew she'd been eavesdropping. "Do you really think that was such a good idea?"

"Well…Joyce, she um…you have no idea how convincing that woman can be when she wants to."

"So you hadn't meant to tell her then? It just slipped out, right?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"I'm guessing I shouldn't tell Xander, then."

"No, especially not. Xander's reaction might be…less than kind…honestly, who can tell with that boy? That, and Spike has a right to his privacy."

"Yes, he does. Except when it comes to Joyce, apparently."

"Anya, I told you I had no intent—"

"And now you want me to lie— by omission, but lie, nevertheless— to the man that I love? The man I live with, share my bed with?"

Giles gave her a pained expression, not sure what to say.

"All right. I can do that. No problem." She smiled cheerfully at him.

He sighed his relief. "Yes. Very good. The matter isn't to be discussed with anyone else. Not Xander, Willow, or Tara."

"And Dawn?" Anya inquired, her brow crinkled in confusion.

"Bloody hell! Of course Dawn is not to know! I thought that much was obvious."

"How was I supposed to know? You gave me this list and—" Anya stopped mid-sentence as another customer entered the store, turning to smile brightly and greet him, completely ignoring Giles.

Shaking his head, he looked down at his watch, and wondered how the vampire was faring, not to mention Buffy. He sincerely hoped that they could find some semblance of solace at this time of darkness for them both.

_sssssss_

"Dawn, is everything all right?" Dawn heard her mother call from the top of the stairs.

She heaved a sigh, continuing to hold her head in her hands, eyes tightly shut. "Yeah, it's just…Riley came by. I wouldn't let him in, though." She straightened a bit from her position on the stairs, watching as her mother slowly descended, concern tinged with apprehension on her face.

"What did he say?" her mother asked cautiously, standing before her.

"He um, he said he wanted to see Buffy, and I told him he wasn't welcome here anymore. And then…it was mostly my own dumb fault. I was probably overreacting, but his eyes…"

"Did he do something to you? Touch you? Hurt you?"

Dawn saw that her mother had that look in her eyes— the one that said she wanted to do some serious damage. Buffy got that look too, sometimes, particularly when she felt that those closest to her had been threatened.

"Dawn?" Her mother gripped her shoulders, searching her face with worry in her eyes, and Dawn realized that she still had not answered her questions.

"No. He just scared me, is all. Will -- will Spike be safe? At Giles'? I don't want Riley anywhere near him, Mom. He's…he's changed. I don't want him around any of us."

"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother embraced her, stroking the long strands of her hair that hung down her back. "Buffy will keep Spike safe. And next time you find Riley at our door, come to me, and I'll take care of him," she said softly— in the kind of soft voice that was menacing and deadly, at the same time.

Dawn took comfort in that.

_sssssss_

Harmony strolled into the dark bar, searching every patron's face with her golden eyes. She smiled with satisfaction as she found the one she'd been searching for. He was sitting in a booth near the back left end of the bar, enjoying a drink, casually looking over the crowd.

His name was Chris, and he was tall, with dark brown hair accentuated by hypnotic dark brown eyes, sensuous lips, a lean, agile body…well, he was almost perfection. His voice didn't have as much bass in it as she preferred, and though he had that swagger that she found to be oh so sexy, he just couldn't do it like her Spike.

_In fact, no one could_ she admitted to herself.

But he was still _way_ good looking.

Their eyes met, and he grinned at her. Harmony sauntered over to him, and sat down without an invitation.

"Harm, pleasure seeing you here. But I'm guessing that you're only gracing me with your presence because you finally managed to convince that delectable boyfriend of yours to have a lil' party, eh?"

"Actually, no Chris. He still politely declines…but I do have a party that I'm sure you'll like just as much. Maybe more in certain ways."

Chris sucked in air between his teeth, hissing. "You naughty girl, you. Will it hurt?"

"Most definitely. It's all about the pain."

"Pleasure is hard to come by these days without the pain," he said thoughtfully.

Harmony gave him a hollow smile in return. "I'm thinking that you and I will most certainly find the pleasure through someone else's pain. Does that count?"

"Will there be blood?" he asked darkly, his voice low and suggestive.

"Only if we do it right."

"And I'm guessing 'right' in this sense will be quite wrong?"

"Very. Very wrong."

They smiled at each other with understanding. Harmony nodded toward the exit, a question in her eyes, and he smiled as he tossed a few bills onto the table. She stood up, Chris followed suit, and they left the bar and headed out into the night.

They had many things to discuss.

_sssssss_

With a stealth that comes only with age, Spike rose up from the couch so as not to disturb the slumbering slayer. As comfortable and lovely as it had been lying beside— well, on top of the woman of his desires, he was in no mood for a kip, and at the same time, didn't feel much like thinking. The alcohol he had drunk had not been enough to soothe his troubled emotions, and after further contemplation, he realized what was missing— his smokes.

Of course, in his haste to leave his crypt, he had left them on the upper level somewhere— probably on the counter. And of course, the Watcher had stopped smoking once he hit the age of "responsibility" and so forth.

It looked like leaving, if only briefly, was the only option.

Spike sighed, glancing over at Buffy. A little drool was dribbling from the side of her mouth, causing him to crack a grin at the unexpected sight.

"Bloody hell, she's adorable," he murmured, grabbing his coat. With the sun finally set, he could leave his blanket behind, as he headed out for a comforting box of mentholated smokes.

To be truthful, it wasn't so much the cigarettes themselves he found comforting, as the fact that they represented part of an image that he wanted—_needed_— to maintain. The…incident earlier that day had deeply rattled him, taking him back to a place that he had desperately wanted to believe was forever dead and buried. After his rebirth, he had sworn to never be a victim again— or at least, not to someone so utterly beneath him.

In his opinion, Finn was practically as low as one could get.

Walking the streets of Sunnyhell, Spike felt an anger rise in him at how helpless he had been— how the attack had made the Master Vampire feel as if he had been reduced once more to nothing more than…_him_.

William.

There were many aspects of his human self that Spike longed to forget, yet no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much time had passed, time and again he found that he was still there.

It was William who had so desperately wanted to cry while he was being violated by Riley, and it was only his demon that had kept him from breaking down.

During the attack, anyway.

Spike was finally beginning to accept that when it came to expressing sensitivity and grief that he tried so hard to conceal, William usually could best his demon. But there had been a few times– other times— when he had been able to preserve his well-practiced façade.

But the bloody chip had taken even that away from him.

Keeping his emotions in check was one thing, but not being able to defend himself physically…it made him feel just that more helpless. Sure, he could still look the part— the devilish smirks, the swagger, the coat, the smokes and alcohol…but it all meant nothing if he could no longer back it up.

He was officially a victim again.

Albeit, a very much unwilling one, but a victim nevertheless.

And that was something that he could not accept. Something he _refused_ to accept.

"Not gonna be anyone's bloody bitch anymore," he said with determination.

"I think I'm gonna have to disagree with that, Spike."

Spike froze at the sound of the cold mockery in that terrifyingly familiar voice, his spine stiffening in apprehension, and another feeling that he did not want to acknowledge.

_Now or never, mate. Are you a victim, or not?_

Spike made a split second decision– and ran.

Better to be a coward than a victim.

* * *

"Let My Savage In" 

Buffy was in a rush, trying to clean up the bathroom before her mom got home. Bent over the tub, scrubbing its sides, she heard the heavy clomping of boots entering the bathroom behind her.

"There you are. Been lookin' for you."

She stood up at the sound of his voice, and Spike appeared before her, only standing in the tub, rather than behind her, where the sound of his voice had come from.

"Give us a hug, then," he whispered, and she found herself taking off her shirt.

"Topless hugs are more fun," she explained, pulling his T-shirt apart right down the middle, exposing the smooth, pale skin of his chest before leaping upon him, wrapping her legs around his torso, her arms wound tightly around his neck. She could feel his huge erection beneath her, and gasped when she realized that there was nothing separating their interlocking parts, and that he was deep inside of her. It felt as he was everywhere at once, all around her, consuming her.

She groaned low in her throat, dropping her dampened brow on his leather-clad shoulder, and shuddered as her orgasm came instantly at the contact. It felt as if she couldn't breathe, but she was not afraid. A wonderful sense of calm coursed over her at the same time.

"Bloody hell, 's Joyce," Spike muttered, looking out of the square window that now existed in the once solid ceramic tiles of the shower wall. Buffy looked up, realizing what he had just said, and sure enough, her mother was standing below on the street, wearing a long, flowing red dress with black trim. Her hand was held up to her face, shielding her eyes from the setting sun as she attempted to look up toward the window, and Buffy hoped to God that she hadn't seen them in their very-much-compromising position.

Spike put her down before dashing out of the bathroom in search of her mother. Buffy searched for her pants, wanting to hurry downstairs before her mother could suspect anything.

Wearing a pair of wrinkled pants that she had found on the bathroom floor, she finally made it out to the street, and saw a little boy with blond, curly hair and deep blue eyes full of tears. He appeared to be wearing Spike's clothes, only they fit his little-boy-sized body perfectly. She guessed that he was maybe about nine or ten.

"I cleaned the tub," she hurriedly explained to her mom, who wasn't really paying that much attention to her.

Joyce's eyes were focused on the little boy standing before her.

"The bad man wants to hurt me," he whimpered to her mom, rubbing at his eyes. Her mother looked sympathetic, but remained silent, wanting the little boy to continue. "I'm just a poor boy— I need no sympathy. I'll kill him before he touches me again." The last sentence was not spoken in the little boy's voice—but in Spike's.

Buffy frowned with concern, realizing that it was in fact Spike, hiding behind the façade of an innocent little boy.

"But you can't. Your chip…"

"What, this?" the little boy asked, still in Spike's voice, holding his hand out to her. There was a tiny microchip in his small palm, and he sneered at her as it burst into sky blue flames. "Thunderbolt and lightning," he laughed as it crumbled to dust. "Didn't think I'd be caged forever, did you?" he asked rhetorically, shifting into game face.

Buffy was taken aback as she saw the little boy's face shift into that of a vampire—and in the sunlight, no less. Her mother stood there impassively as the vampire boy lunged for her daughter, grabbing her wrist and biting into it.

Buffy hissed in pain out of reflex, but it didn't hurt.

Not at all.

"Spare him, Sweetie—he's just a poor boy," her mother pleaded with her.

When she didn't move or cry out, he released her, and all at once he was full grown Spike again, not in game face.

Holding a guitar.

He began strumming it softly, looking down at his hands as he plucked its strings.

"I never wanted anybody more than I wanted you. The only thing I ever really loved was hurting you. Don't go, I never wanted anybody more, than I wanted you. The only thing I ever really loved was hate…" His voice trailed off, and he suddenly appeared to be very confused. He looked up at her then, as if searching for something in her expression.

"Buff—"

Slamming into the floor from rolling off of the couch jarred Buffy out of her strange dream. Putting her hand to her head, she sat up slowly, wondering if it had been a slayer dream, or a wacky, crazy dream induced by the effects of alcohol on her own subconscious.

She really couldn't tell.

With everything that had been going on in the past twenty four hours, it was truly hard to say. But there was one thing she did know for sure.

Spike was no longer in the safety of Giles' apartment.

"Damn it, Spike," she muttered, getting up and heading to the door. He was out there somewhere, alone. She just hoped he didn't run into any trouble before she could get to him.

Trouble meaning Riley, of course.

_sssssss_

Spike had to wonder if he had been asking for this. Going out alone, still chipped and therefore unable to defend himself from the only monster that was any real danger to him was bloody stupid, after all. But of course, there was no time to dwell on such trivial matters now.

No, now was the time to focus on running like hell.

His body tensed, his knees slightly bent as he prepared for his mad dash; but before he had the chance to move a yard, a bolt of electricity hit the base of his skull, sending him crashing to his knees, his body shaking in involuntary spasms as his hands shook out in front of him. A choked scream completed his moment of pain, as he collapsed face forward on the ground. As the pain began to subside, he was viciously shocked again in roughly the same spot. It felt as if his brain was on fire.

"You thought I was going to let you get away with it, Spike? You thought I was just going to let you walk away?!" Riley kicked him in the ribs so hard that the wounded vampire was flipped forcefully onto his back by the blow.

"You're going to pay, you son of a bitch." The molten lava of anger and hatred burst forth from within Spike, making him no longer care about the firing of his chip he would surely receive from striking out at the wanker. Vamping out, he thrust his foot out at Riley, catching the soldier directly in his privates with the thick, hard sole of his combat boot. It was only after his bull's eye hit that he braced himself for the pain.

Except, there wasn't any- only a slight tingle in the back of his noggin...

_Well, isn't this just… neat._

Getting to his feet, as Riley remained on the ground, moaning in pain, Spike kicked him in the face experimentally, knocking his rapist onto his back from the blow. There was another tingle, but less noticeable than the last time.

Spike grinned around his fangs.

"No, _you're_ gonna pay, you limp bastard. Thanks to your wankerish tactics of attempting to fry my brain with your little taser, my chip seems to be out of commission— for the most part. This is gonna be—Aagh!" Spike yelled in pain as Riley stabbed him in his jean-clad thigh with what must have been an eight inch blade, burying it to the hilt in the vampire's flesh.

Spike's leg buckled slightly, and he stumbled backward, grasping the handle of the knife with both hands, trying to pull it free from his tense muscles. It hurt like a bitch, but the pain was nothing he couldn't handle. Unfortunately, he couldn't pull it out fast enough, and Riley took advantage of his distraction, tackling him to the ground with a grunt, consequently lodging the knife further into Spike's thigh once again, but this time at an awkward angle. He reached into another pocket of his cargo pants, and held something else out in front of Spike's face.

It was a can of pepper spray.

Spike screamed in pain as the pepper spray burned his corneas, dilating his blood vessels, and tainting the ocean blue of his irises and the whites of his pupils with red.

During Spike's distraction, Riley grabbed his wrists and held them together, binding them with a plastic clamp and pulling it tightly so that it dug painfully into his skin.

"See, Spike? I always come prepared," Riley panted out, his eyes traveling slowly over Spike's incapacitated form with undisguised lustful anticipation.

"You aren't gonna get away with this," Spike gritted out the words, fighting back a wave of panic at the helpless condition that he was finding himself in once again, regardless of the chip's failure.

Before Riley could retort, a yell of fury interrupted him, followed by a blur of blonde as Riley was tackled off Spike and slammed into the ground by the young woman. Riley's eyes widened when he realized that it was no woman at all.

It was a vampire.

_Harmony? _Spike thought, twisting his head to confirm with his eyes what his keen nose already smelled.

Riley smiled at her.

"Glad you could come. You can be the first part of the lesson— my demonstration to Spike of just exactly what I'm gonna do to him." His cold eyes looked her appreciatively up and down as he shrugged, "More or less."

Eyes narrowed with hatred, Harmony shut him up by punching him in the jaw, the powerful blow whipping his head to the side.

"Wrong, bitch, cause I am _so_ gonna be the one teaching you a lesson."

Riley grunted as he used his upper arm strength to the max, hurling her up and over his head and onto her back. She quickly twisted once she had landed on her back, pulling herself up onto her knees, grasping Riley's wrists and twisting them into an X in the process. Riley never got the chance to react, for as soon as she had him properly pinned, shifting into her game face, a tall, brown-haired, male vampire leapt upon him, smiling gleefully as Harmony bit into his neck.

"Harm?"

Harmony's head shot up, and she smiled fondly at her blondie bear, who was now standing, hands bound in front of him, staring bleary-eyed at the scene unfolding before him.

"Yes, Spikey. It's me. I came home earlier and you weren't there, and I smelled…" Harmony faltered, swallowing as she looked away. "_Him._ I just couldn't let him get away with it, could I?" she asked as Chris trailed his hands slowly up and down Riley's torso, enjoying the smell of his fear in the air.

Spike tilted his head, staring more at Harmony than at the other two. She was starting to look a bit worried— as if perhaps she had done the wrong thing. Spike looked down at Riley, who was panting heavily, attempting to wriggle from beneath the vampire, who had his hips and thighs locked in a vice grip between his powerful legs, rocking against his pelvis with his own as he hummed in pleasure. Two thin trails of blood dribbled from the twin puncture marks in his neck. Harmony had been extra careful not to rip his throat.

After all, he had to be alive and alert for all of the fun.

It didn't look at all comfortable for the captive soldier.

_Wouldn't be fair to worry her unnecessarily, would it?_

Spike smirked at her devilishly, swaggering up to her. He held his bound wrists out to her, and Harmony temporarily used her knees to pin Riley's wrists down, so that she could pull apart the plastic clamp that bound Spike. She smiled at him as the thin plastic fell broken to the ground, ineffectual. With a hard tug, Spike yanked the knife out of his thigh with a grunt, then held it before him, admiring the length of the blade. He looked back down at Harmony and smiled.

"Of course not, pet. But let's not have your friend enjoy all the fun, yea?"

_sssssss_

Buffy was rushing through Sunnydale, checking one place after another in a desperate attempt to find the traumatized, vulnerable vampire. She had been to the Bronze, the Magic Box, the corner store…and she couldn't find Spike anywhere. She figured that the one place he wouldn't be was at his crypt, considering that was the place where _it_ had happened.

Buffy shook her head, feeling sickened by the unbidden images attempting to force their way into her mind's eye.

_Force. Definitely a bad choice of words there…_

She sighed, focusing on her…dream. The brief, hot, Spike-sex—definitely no prophesy in that. Then there was her mother, and Spike as a young boy, so she assumed that was still the wacky subconscious coming into play.

_But the chip…_

His chip bursting into flames, Spike biting her— definitely some extreme warning bells going off there.

_But he said he'd never hurt me._ Buffy's brow crinkled as she remembered another line from her dream.

_I'll kill him before he touches me again…_

An all-consuming fear gripped her, and she knew she had to find Spike before something awful happened.

She just wasn't sure what that _something_ was.

* * *

A/N: If you're enjoying this or finding it remotely intriguing, please, please review. It's not only good for Muse, but it's good for the soul. 


	3. Part Three

A/N: Sorry guys- Muse nearly O.D.ed on RL. Hope this was worth the wait…

Thanks to DoS for betaing, and to all who have reviewed :D

"Slipping Away"

Xander had been heading to the Magic Box. Because it was such a lovely evening, he had decided to walk there. It wasn't so far from his home, and he felt it was his duty to do his part in helping to preserve the ozone layer.

That, and Anya was currently in possession of his vehicle.

It had been particularly windy that morning, and she insisted on using the safe confines of the car to preserve a curly look she was trying with her hair. That, and she not-so-discreetly mentioned that Xander walking around a bit more would burn off the many calories of his personal vises of beer and doughnuts.

"See? Nothing but good all around. I save gas, the ozone, and Anya's new do all while burning calories. Look out, evil villains of the world, for I am Xander— Multitasking Man." Xander paused in his not-so-inner monologue when he noticed Riley up ahead; a look of determination was etched hard on his face as he veered to the left with a taser in his hand.

"Hey, Riley! What's goin' on?" he called out to the former soldier, then slapped himself mentally for with his ignorance. He knew that Riley didn't particularly care for loud talking, let alone full blown yelling, when he was in pursuit of something.

_Stealth, and all_, Xander thought. But either way, his yelling hadn't been loud enough to disturb whatever was going on, for Riley hadn't so much as paused in acknowledgement, continuing to head through the trees that led to the woods.

"Huh. Wonder what action's going down tonight."

Knowing that there probably wouldn't be a Scooby meeting later that evening…

_Unless Riley's little excursion right now has to do with a meeting I inadvertently missed due to my having to walk five hundred miles…_

Xander decided to follow his friend and see what was the what, and if he could be of any help.

Riley was moving incredibly fast—he was clearly in hot pursuit of someone or something.

"Maybe Anya's right. A little extra workout never hurt anybody," Xander huffed to himself a few minutes later as he jogged to the spot where he had last spotted Riley.

"Man, I gotta get back in shape."

Xander remembered days of yore when running, or jogging for that matter, wasn't such an arduous task. The construction work kept his arms and hands good and strong, but his legs and quads could use a little assistance. Maybe the strengthening of his lungs would be a good thing as well, 'cause, good God!

Even breathing with any sense of normalcy was becoming an issue.

But Xander figured that this little impromptu trek of chasing after Riley would be a good start.

The glorified brick layer, however, received quite the start indeed when his heart that had been beating and pumping oh so hard from what he didn't quite want to describe as overexertion, briefly stopped at the stunning sight before him. Riley, within the span of five minutes or so that it took for Xander to catch up with him, had gone from hunter to prey. His predators, for the most part, were all too familiar.

Harmony held his bound wrists to the ground, all the while smiling gleefully up at a platinum blond, leather clad man who could be no one but Spike. He stood before her, licking the blood off of a knife. An unknown male, whom Xander assumed to be a vampire as well, was on top of Riley, grinding on top of his struggling form. The presumed vampire barked out a laugh before ripping Riley's shirt down the middle, caressing his broad chest in a gesture akin to that of a lover.

Or an eager rapist.

Xander felt winded as well as sickened. The scene he now saw did nothing to help regulate his erratic breathing.

"Don't you think it's better this way?" the vampire rhetorically asked an overtly stricken Riley.

"Oh god…what is this? Spike?"

Spike's head whipped around, his vampiric, yellow eyes rolling in exasperation at the sight of the Slayer's boy.

"Harris, just walk away. You have no idea—"

"Xander! Help me!"

"Shh, shh. Calm down. The party's just getting started," the brown-haired vamp murmured as he started to unbutton Riley's baggy cargo pants.

"Wait," Spike commanded darkly, all the while keeping his eyes on Xander.

"Aah, but I just wanna—"

Spike whipped his head briefly around to stare Chris down.

"Not now," he said darkly. "This is my bloody show. Do what I damn well say when I say it." Chris smiled, nodding his head in acknowledgement, and settled for sitting directly atop Riley's pelvis, waiting for permission to go on.

"What the hell is this?!" Xander demanded, eyeing the two blondes as he pulled a stake from out of his coat pocket.

Harmony snarled at him in disgust. "God, Xander. Do I have to bitch slap you _again_? You're out-muscled and outnumbered."

Xander nodded somberly at her obvious assessment. "Maybe so. But I can stop you," he said with what sounded like resignation. He then lunged for Spike, stake at the ready, knowing Spike couldn't stop him.

Of course, the evening continued to be chock full of surprises.

Spike grabbed Xander's wrist, twisting it behind his back so that he released the stake from his hand. At the boy's groan of pain, Spike released him, simultaneously shoving him forward, causing Xander to stumble.

"I said, _sod off_," Spike gritted out, staring at a dumbfounded Xander.

"Your chip—"

"Is currently out of order, thanks to the _illustrious_ Captain Cardboard."

Xander swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do— if he could do anything, that was. He slowly began to back away, knowing that there was only one obvious solution.

_Buffy_.

"So, I don't suppose you're gonna just…let me walk away, are you?" Xander questioned hesitatingly, trying to block out Riley's loud breathing, caused by duress.

Spike gave him a somewhat sad smirk before answering. "Nah. Go on. Got no problem with you. Toddle on off to safety." Spike didn't move until Xander was fully out of sight.

"Well, pity there was a distraction. But at least now the festivities can officially begin. Hold his legs." Chris moved down Riley's body until he was sitting on his legs, his strong, firm hands gripping Riley's thighs tightly in order to force him to remain still.

"I'd move my hands, if I were you, mate," Spike warned, kneeling alongside the captive soldier with the knife at the ready.

"Spike, I swear—"

"What? That it's gonna hurt?" Spike interrupted Riley. "Yeah, it probably will. At least, I'm hopin' as much."

"You know Xander's gonna get Buffy."

"Perhaps the boy did go and do such a dastardly thing. Ooh— _scary_. Not that she'll get here in time." With that, he slashed the knife several times across Riley's thighs, shredding the material of his pants so that they fell in wisps to the soft, dirt ground beside him, and leaving shallow cuts on Riley's vulnerable flesh. He cut enough to hurt, but not enough to make him bleed.

Angelus had taught him well.

Chris growled at the scent of blood just beneath the surface, gazing longingly at the welts on Riley's muscular thighs.

"Well then, get to it," Spike said casually, standing back up.

"Hold him tight, Harmony," Chris said with a grin, shifting into game face as he unbuckled his pants.

"And leave him on his back—I wanna see his face when I rip into him."

He moved quicker than lightening, rolling off Riley before lifting his legs up and over his shoulders, and rammed into him all at once. Riley screamed, tears instantly accumulating in his eyes, causing him to close them in shame.

But they wouldn't stop coming.

Riley cried as Chris hummed in satisfaction as he hammered himself into the soldier's body in rapid succession before pulling nearly all the way out, and slamming back in.

He had slowed down his tempo.

He was in no rush.

He wanted to savor every moment.

"Nothing like a virgin ass," Chris murmured, reaching out to caress Riley's face. Riley jerked his head away in disgust as he heard a deep, rich baritone laugh.

It was Spike.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm," Spike chuckled with mirth. "How's it feel to be a bottom, Finn? This uh, _dark_ enough for you?"

Riley whispered "no" as his tears continued to fall. And then Chris began to stroke him to hardness.

"Well, well. Looks like the soldier boy is enjoying it a bit after all," Spike commented as Riley's length grew.

Riley looked down, mortified by his body's involuntary reaction.

"Actually, I've heard that even if the victim is aroused, it doesn't mean they're enjoying it," Harmony commented offhandedly. Based on Spike's blank look, she quickly added, "I mean, not that he's _really_ a victim or…I saw it on _Lifetime_?"

Spike sat there silently, staring at her as Chris' grunts and Riley's harsh pants filled the background. Finally, Spike laughed, releasing the tension between him and his pseudo girlfriend. He leaned over and kissed her briefly, though hard, on the lips.

"You're bloody amazing sometimes, you know that?"

Buffy was beginning to panic when another fruitless ten minutes passed, and she had yet to find any trace of Spike. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't hear a heavily panting Xander approach behind her.

"Buff!" he yelled, hands braced on his knees as he bent over a bit, trying to get air into his lungs.

Buffy walked closer to him, rubbing his back in concern. "Xander?"

"You…have to stop them. I couldn't…outnumbered."

"What? What's going on?" Buffy tried to ignore the heavy pounding in her chest.

"It's…Riley. They've got him, Buffy."

Buffy looked confused for a few seconds, Xander's sentence attempting to register in her mind. "Wait, huh? Where? Who?"

Xander ignored the burning fire spreading rapidly in his chest, and wheezed out, "Spike. And Harmony. And some other vamp. Close to the woods on the South side—"

Before Xander could finish, Buffy was running, leaving him behind to pant in the street.

She had no idea what to expect, but just hoped to anyone that was listening that they weren't killing Riley.

It wasn't the way.

Apparently, Spike didn't feel it to be the way either. He much preferred an eye for an eye.

For the moment.

Buffy was completely unprepared for what she now saw—a crying, aroused Riley laid out on the ground, pants in shredded tatters as some unknown vampire thrust into him with leisure as Harmony held him down. Spike's barking, almost hysterical laughter eclipsed the noise of slapping skin on skin, whimpers and moans.

"Oh my god… What— what is this? Spike?" Buffy asked quietly. 

Spike sighed, standing up and approaching her. "Harris already gave me those lines, luv."

Buffy looked back over to the trio before shutting her eyes tightly from the scene of the rape. Riley hadn't seem to notice her presence, and kept his eyes shut, tears still leaking through the lids, all the while keeping his mouth clamped shut. She assumed he was probably biting his tongue.

"Vengeance is _not_ the way, Spike. You have to stop this."

"Know what, Slayer? To ere is human. To forgive is…oh, wait…I'm far from divine, aren't I, love?" Spike reminded her in a fiercely bitter voice.

"No—"

"No? What then? You suppose I just should've forgiven him then? Let him go, even though _he_ was the one to attack me? Twice, I might add. You wanted me to let him get away with it?!" The underlying anger in his voice had finally boiled over, and Spike gripped her upper arms tight, and pulled her close to speak directly into her face.

"That's what you want though, innit? To have me leashed, and have pillocks like him roam free, just cause he doesn't happen to have a demon. Sorry I can't conform to your idealistic ways, _luv_," he spat derisively. "But thanks to your raping boy toy, and his fondness for electrical weapons, I'm not caged anymore." 

Buffy's eyes widened as Spike shifted into game face.

"No more bars and cells for this vamp. The Big Bad is officially back." 

Buffy went limp in his arms, eyes fluttering shut as he sank his fangs into her neck, making it his chalice.

Just as he promised.

"Goodbye..."

She honestly would have liked to have blamed it — the not even attempting to stop Spike from sinking his fangs into her throat — on the alcohol. But honestly, her little cat nap had been enough to burn off most of its effects. The only thing that was preventing her from stopping Spike was…her.

Perhaps it was the shock of seeing Riley raped, accompanied by learning of Spike's chip malfunction, that froze her muscles in place. Even so, it didn't hurt. His fangs sunk into her with as much ease as a hot steak knife into a stick of butter, leaving those neat ridge marks on the surface. And of course, he chose to bite her on the left side — the only side a vampire _hadn't_ bitten her on.

One could assume Spike wanted a spot all his own.

Her body involuntarily trembled in his arms as she felt the hard steel of his body so close against her, and a shaky sigh escaped her lips as she went limp, a wave of warmth rolling through her at the intimate contact— him, his fangs, or both, she wasn't sure…not that it mattered, because for some reason, she was gripping the lapels of his coat. She wasn't pulling him closer, but she wasn't pushing him away either.

She just...waited.

Even though he felt the need to collapse, Xander soldiered on to the Magic Box. He had to get Giles. They had to help Buffy.

They had to help _Riley_.

He burst through the shop door, nearly collapsing as the bell hammered violently against the top of it.

"Anya! Keys! Giles," he paused to pant. "Weapons — now!"

Anya walked from around the counter to help Xander toward the table to sit down. He batted her hand away with a vehement shake of his head. 

"Anya, I need my car keys. Trust me when I say I've gotten more than enough exercise for the night."

Anya frowned, but did as he asked. He looked up, and saw Giles coming out of the backroom with a cross bow and a broad sword. Xander figured he probably had a few stakes on his person as well.

"What is it, Xander? What's happened?" Giles asked.

"It's...well, technically, it's Spike. His chip is broken, and he has Riley."

"His chip is broken? Are you sure?" Anya asked.

"I think the slight bruising and tenderness in my wrist makes that a _definite_ 'yes'," he answered, holding up said slightly injured wrist.

"What? How is that even possible?"

"Well, that's great then, isn't it?" Anya asked, seemingly happy. 

Xander gave his girlfriend a look that was beyond confused. "Can I say... huh?"

Giles imperceptibly shook his head "no" at Anya behind Xander's back, and her eyes widened just a fraction as realization dawned on her.

"Oh, I just meant...it'd level the playing field if they were gonna fight or something. No fight's right unless you're fighting fair, and all that," she giggled nervously.

"Trust me when I say it's the kind of fairness that's _not_. Spike has a little help from Harmony and some other vamp. I think they're planning to...that they're gonna...I just hope Buffy gets there in time."

"Yes, well, shouldn't we be off then?" Giles suggested, not waiting for a response as he headed out the door with the weapons to put them in Xander's car. He'd had no doubt that Spike would attempt to carry out some sort of revenge for what Riley had done to him.

He only hoped that whatever Spike had chosen to do was something that could be...remedied, easily.

He hoped it wasn't murder.

Spike knew before he even heard her rapid footfalls that she was there; he could smell her on the wind. He wondered what she would think of the little scene before her. Would she side with him, or Finn?

_It's not as if the wanker doesn't deserve it_. 

But the sound of her breath hitching in her throat, and her gasp of shock said it all.

No—of course she wouldn't be pleased, or even accepting, of what was being done to Finn under his watch. Of course not, being a white hat, after all. She believed in justice, and blah, blah, blah. But how in the blue hell did she expect _justice_ to be played out in this lil' scenario? She expected that Spike would…what? Call the police so Finn could be taken to jail good and proper?

No— of course it wouldn't happen like that.

There were only three options: forget, which was impossible without the aid of a lobotomy; forgive, which would be beyond insane, eventually leading Spike to crave a lobotomy for the sole purpose of forgetting what an incredible twat he'd become; or decimate and destroy.

He much preferred that last option.

And Finn presented him with the perfect opportunity for doing so. He'd have been a fool not to take it. He stood up slowly and turned as she uttered her quiet statement.

_'Vengeance is _not _the way.'_

And something inside of him snapped.

He refused to be pushed around on this. He didn't care if she was a white hat. He didn't care that she was the soddin' Slayer either. He had to be avenged; he had to…

And then, he could smell her blood— little droplets peaking around his fangs as they bled through to the surface. He pulled out slowly, licking the neat puncture wounds.

_This_ was Buffy.

Sure, he could make her neck his chalice—it was the "drinking deep" part that was the problem.

He pulled away as he shifted out of game face, jerking his head back as he growled at the sky in frustration…frustration at not being able to do it, and at trying to hurt the woman he loved in the first place.

Buffy, coming to her senses at the loss of the contact, forcefully pushed him away from her, knocking him flat on his ass onto the dirt. He stared up at her with hurt, silvery blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight. She swallowed, confusion dominating her features as to what had just occurred. His overt hurt, shame and distress at his actions of attempting to bite her, to _drink_ from her, called to her very being.

But she ignored it; she had to.

Her hand flew to her neck as she backed away. She couldn't think about him and what had just happened. Not while…

She turned abruptly to the gruesome scene behind her.

"Stop it _right_ now," she ground out, staring at the vampire leisurely pumping away.

Loud, ragged sobs emitted from Riley at the sound of her voice, from embarrassment at having her see him in such a way. Harmony had her eyes focused behind Buffy, staring at Spike with watery eyes. With a sniffle, she released Riley before running away. As soon as his hands were free, Riley swung his bound fists hard against Chris' jaw, knocking the vampire sideways. He scrambled backwards as quickly as his bruised backside would allow, furiously wiping at the tears on his face. Chris chuckled, crawling on all fours toward Riley again.

"Stay away from him," Buffy commanded.

"Make me, blondie," he commented offhandedly, his eyes focused on Riley's fearful ones.

Buffy didn't even hesitate as she removed a stake hidden on her back, hurling it towards the vampire. She hit her target good and true.

Technically.

The stake embedded itself in Chris' left shoulder—too high to pierce his heart. He whipped around, snarling viciously as he stood up, pulling up his pants as he did so.

"Do you wanna give me a second chance, or leave like I told you to? I've got a few more stakes and time on my hands," Buffy said with a hint of indifference, though inside she was totally rattled. She just...didn't miss. Her emotions didn't usually get the best of her.

That apparently didn't apply tonight.

"Slayer," Chris hissed as he slowly began to back away into the shadows.

"Who else? What, were you on a seven second delay or something?" She just didn't quite feel up to punning. She didn't feel quite up to anything, really. What she wanted to do was wish the last twenty-four hours away.

_Fat chance of that happening._

"Buffy!" 

Buffy turned around at the sound of Giles voice. She was more than thankful for the distraction. She wasn't sure how she should go about handling Spike and Riley.

"Oh man..." Xander murmured, hurrying over to Riley's side.

"No, it's okay. I'll be alright," Riley said, though Xander helped him up anyway. Wordlessly, Xander took off his jacket, handing it Riley so that he could attempt to cover himself, then allowed Riley to lean on him so that he could get him to his car.

"We gotta get you to the hospital."

Riley nodded his assent. But then he paused, and stopped hobbling along with Xander once they stood before Buffy. She just watched them silently as Giles kept his eyes trained on her, though every once in a while, his eyes would flicker downward to the vampire next to him.

"Buffy, are you gonna stake him now? 'Cause I would hate to miss that," Riley said in a wavering voice, glaring at the vampire furiously. 

Spike kept his eyes on the ground, his fingers gripping the earth beneath him.

"Who...who said I was gonna stake him?"

Riley was stunned into silence.

"What? You're not gonna...can we say goodbye to sanity, Buff?" Xander asked, more than perplexed as to what was going on.

"Xander, take him to the hospital please?" Buffy asked quietly, looking away.

Xander's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, continuing to walk with the wounded ex-soldier.

"Coming, Giles?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes--just a moment," the Watcher called back to him, focusing on his charge once more. "Buffy, what happened here?" he asked, staring at the light trails of blood dripping from her two, neat puncture wounds.

Buffy put her hand back up self-consciously, not looking at Giles or Spike.

"Riley tried to attack Spike, but...Harmony and a friend of hers intervened."

"And who bit you?" Giles asked coolly.

Buffy's eyes flickered to Spike, and they both stared at each other, Spike with resignation in his eyes, and Buffy with solemnity.

"The vamp guy. Didn't catch his name. I was...too stunned for a second, and um, Spike threw him off of me."

Giles looked at Spike, noting the overt shock on his face. "Is this true, Spike?"

"The Slayer's the more honest one between the two of us, isn't she?" he replied, all the while keeping his eyes on Buffy.

"Giles, can you take Spike back to your place, please, and make sure he stays there?"

"Don't need a soddin' babysitter, Slayer. The threat's off the streets, isn't that right?" he commented dryly, getting up from the ground.

"Didn't ask if you did, Spike. Giles, just please make sure to get him there. I...need a moment."

"All right, Buffy. But we will most certainly discuss this at greater length later."

Buffy nodded at him, watching as he and Spike walked away. She knew she had to go to the hospital to see Riley. She knew she had to go to Giles' and talk to Spike. She just didn't know how she was supposed to react to any of it. Who was the real evil here?

She felt utterly lost.

As lost as she felt, she found herself walking to familiar territory. She ended up at Spike's crypt.

She needed to see where it all...happened. The last thing she expected to see, however, was the door standing wide open. She approached it cautiously, peering inside. There, she saw Harmony, silently sniffling to herself. Her head snapped up as Buffy walked inside the crypt.

"Come here to stake me?"

"No. I didn't even know you'd be here. You set that all up back there, didn't you?"

Harmony gave her a wry smile. "Well, yeah. It's not like your boyfriend didn't—"

"He is _not_ my boyfriend. Not anymore," she added on Harmony's look of disbelief.

"I just wanted to clean the place up a bit after...we vamps have sensitive noses, but I'm thinking it's good we don't have to breathe cause it still _so_ reeks in here. The incense just added to the smell. Kinda like a skunk on a hot date."

"Maybe a fan would help?" Buffy suggested.

Harmony shrugged, surreptitiously looking at the door, wondering if she could rush Buffy and make her way to freedom. Buffy sighed, sitting down in Spike's ratty, comfy chair.

"Don't look so worried, Harmony. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Oh," Harmony said, sitting across from Buffy on an upturned crate.

"So, you've been here with Spike all this time? I mean, ever since your botched attempt at trying to kidnap my sister?"

"Yeah. I asked for his help, and he agreed, as long as I agreed to have sex with him. Like it was really some sort of sacrifice. Seriously, nothing is better as far as physical activities go." Harmony completely missed Buffy's slight grimace at her for the unnecessary information, and instead became lost in her own thoughts.

"I mean, nothing would be better except for maybe...being able to make love to him. I've never known what that was like. I mean, kinda, but he wasn't really...with me." She looked up, seeing a very uncomfortable Buffy in front of her. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why babbling on like this. It's just," she paused as she stood up, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the Slayer. "Spike just makes me so...so— "

"Discombobulated?" Buffy tried to help.

"Huh?"

"He makes you crazy. Gets under your skin?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah, he does. Seems to me he gets under your skin, too." 

Buffy's hand automatically went to her neck once again, and she swallowed as she looked away. "Yeah, he does that too."

"If it helps at all, you get under his. All the time. He doesn't know what to do. He gets all frustrated with his 'bloody hells' or whatever, ticking off reasons why you annoy him."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, but he's just covering. The truth is, he can't stop thinking about you. Don't know why, though. I mean, besides the whole slayer thing, I _so_ don't get it. Sure you're not as bony as his precious _Drewdsilla_—"

"Hey!" Buffy yelled, slightly offended.

"But seriously," Harmony continued as if Buffy had said nothing. "You'd think after being with me he'd know that a real woman was _supposed_ to have curves."

"I _so_ have curves!"

Harmony didn't seem to hear Buffy's objection as she sat down once again, appearing somber as well as saddened by something.

"But I guess that's not really important when you're in love with someone."

That statement caused Buffy to sit up stiffly in her chair. "Huh?" 

Harmony looked up at her, a bitter smile on her face. "I always thought it was just some sort of weirdo fascination—or maybe it's infatuation. But after tonight...I know it's love."

"Harmony, what the hell are you talking about?"

"God, Buffy. Where've you been for the past five minutes? I said, Spike's _in love_ with you. I...saw it."

"You _saw_ it? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Ugh! It means I saw it! When he bit you, no offense, but I was happy for him that he was finally gonna off his third slayer. Third time's a charm and all, and you'd been plaguing him—mentally. So anyway, there I was, thinking it's all over, and then the idiot just stops! He totally had you in his clutches, could've drained you dry, and all he does is growl at the sky before you knocked him on his ass. And then I saw the look on his face. The way he looked at you...it broke my heart," she finished quietly. She looked at Buffy, tears that wouldn't fall drenching her eyes.

"I knew I'd lost him. Not that I ever really had him before, but...I guess I just didn't expect it to hurt so much, you know? I thought I was over him, then we sorta hooked up, and the next thing you know, I'm back in love with him. That is, if I ever really stopped in the first place. Do you know what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back?"

"Yeah. I do," Buffy answered quietly.

"Buffy, we were never friends, or even really on speaking terms back in high school, but...do you think you could do me a favor? I mean, I did try to help stop the Mayor, even though all I did was get turned. And help your boy- _ex_ boyfriend get, ya know, raped or whatever. But still."

"What is it, Harmony?" Buffy asked, half-amused and half-annoyed.

"Could you not...hurt Spike? It's just, he's really sensitive and gets emotional easily, even though he covers a lot. Deep down, he's just a big ol' softy who enjoys reading poetry."

"Spike reads...never mind. Hurt him? I'm...I'm not gonna stake him."

"I figured you wouldn't, since you're sparing me and all. But I mean, hurt him here," Harmony clarified, placing her hand over her still heart.

"Even though it doesn't beat anymore, it _feels_ so much. I just want him happy," she said with a sad smile. "I gotta go. I can't stay here anymore." Harmony got up, and grabbed a bag on the floor by the sarcophagus. "Try and get that fan if you can," she said as she crossed the threshold and headed into the night.

Buffy continued to sit, completely and utterly stupefied.


	4. Part Four

A/N: First, thanks to the lovely DoS for betaing as always (oh, if you see anything wrong with the part with Giles in it, it would be totally my fault- I added it in at the last minute). And also thanks to all of you who have reviewed. I just wanted to quickly say that this will evolve into a Spuffy (obviously), just not right away, even if it may seem like it. There's still a lot of traumatic things that need to be addressed.

I know I haven't updated in awhile, and it seems like it might be every several weeks now, especially since I'm in school. Anyway, sorry for the wait, I wish this had been longer, but either way, if you enjoy it, it was all worth it. Oh, and I totally ripped a few lines from "Into the Woods."

And on with the fic...

Thanks to WhisperingLeaves, The Blue Faerie, spikealicious, ya-lubly-tebya, Amanda, firedarkeyes, Mita427, socialitegirl and gaeliclassie for reviewing so far. And to all those who added this fic or any other of mine to their favorites. But please, leave a review. Muse oh so needs it...

* * *

"Denial"

"Bloody hell. Between you and Buffy, it's a wonder I haven't been robbed blind," Giles groused as he easily turned the knob on the door to his flat, stepping into the well-lit living room. Spike closed the door behind them, locking it.

"All better now?"

Giles gave Spike a look of annoyance at the rhetorical and somewhat sarcastic question before heading into the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

"'M surprised, you know."

"About what, exactly?" Giles asked as the vampire sat down at the bar, watching him prepare the tea.

"That you'd have me back here, after..." Giles leaned on the counter top, staring at Spike in confusion as his words trailed off. The vampire made a scrunched up face at Giles before pointing his left index finger at his noggin. "Surely Harris told you about the malfunction."

"Oh." _The chip._ "Yes, he did. It just... slipped my mind somehow."

Spike snorted. "Yeah—Slayer gives an order, and everything else goes out the soddin' window, right? Not that you needed to worry, anyway. I won't _do_ anything. We're like old mates, right?" He said the last part a bit sarcastically, though Giles could tell from the sudden drumming of his fingertips on the Formica that he was nervous about his response.

"I suppose," Giles mused. "We...have spent quite a bit of time together, haven't we?" the Watcher admitted with a quiet chuckle.

"Oh. Right, then."

"But tell me, Spike. What Buffy said earlier, about that vampire biting her...was it true?"

Spike met Giles' unwavering stare with one of his own. It lasted all of twenty seconds before Spike sighed, looking away.

"Bugger."

"It was quite obvious the two of you were lying. I just don't understand why she would—"

"Me neither. Couldn't for the life of me figure why."

"And what of you, Spike? Just what was it you were doing?" Giles asked coldly, his fatherly emotions for his charge overriding his curiosity.

"I...dunno, actually. I was just...Say, isn't the more important question why'd she cover for me? Or why she didn't bother to stop me?"

"She didn't...who stopped you, then?"

"Me. _I_ stopped me. She just, well, waited."

"Then why were you on the ground?"

"When I stopped, she pushed me. But, before that... I just hope she doesn't..." Spike swallowed, glancing at Giles worriedly.

"Doesn't what?"

"Have a death wish."

"A what? What makes you say that?"

"A slayer always has a death wish, sooner or later. But Buffy—she shouldn't. Not now. She's got her mum, bratty kid sis, you, her damn Scoobies... there's no reason she should wanna kick it now."

"A slayer always has a death wish?" Giles asked, incredulous. "And you know this because..." He trailed off at the sharp arch of Spike's scarred eyebrow, then suddenly whipped off his glasses and looked away.

"I have a personal knowledge on slayers. Remember, Rupes?" Spike asked casually.

Giles turned his back on him, completely baffled at the news. Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, had Buffy within his grasp, his fangs embedded in her throat, and did not drink from her. More importantly, she did nothing to stop the vampire. She had lied to him, in fact, in order to save Spike.

_Why would she trust him?_ _Protect him?_

Giles mentally slapped himself as he abruptly turned around, realizing he was doing the exact same thing.

_Maybe Spike just has that effect on people._

"It wasn't the first time, you know," Spike said, interrupting Giles from his reverie.

"What?"

"A few weeks back, when I thought my chip was out, I pounced on her, literally, and she just lay there, waiting for me to bite her."

"What?!" Giles exclaimed. "When was this?"

"You know, when _Finn_," he said derisively, "needed that surgery or what all. I took the doctor who planned to do it, and tried to make him take my chip out. At first the wanker wouldn't, saying it might cause me brain damage. Of course eventually he pretended he did, and I thought I was free. Buffy came in, words were exchanged, and then I just jumped her. She just lay there as I gripped her shoulders, and didn't even attempt to stop me. I found out he left it in when I tried to bite her, of course."

"She...Buffy never told me," he whispered, grief and worry overcoming him at what exactly state of mind Buffy had been in lately. He walked over to his desk and pulled open the top drawer, taking out a bottle of bourbon, holding it absentmindedly as he became lost in thought.

When Dracula had tried to control her, Buffy had staked him twice and ran him out of town. An anonymous vampire staked her, and she sought out Spike to find a way to prevent her death from occurring by learning of previous slayers' downfalls. But with Spike— she lied for him, and let him go unharmed. In fact, she demanded that Giles make sure that he remained safe.

The question was...why? 

ssssssss

After patiently waiting for Riley to be stitched up, Xander was finally allowed to see him. He knocked tentatively on the door before entering the sterilized room. He saw Riley lying on the hospital bed on his stomach, fists clenched in front of him.

Xander sighed, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he entered, saying "hey" softly.

Riley didn't even bother to glance in his direction.

Xander refused to let the silence ensue. Once he had helped Riley to the back seat of his car, realizing that the wounded ex-soldier was unable to sit in the front seat, Riley had remained quiet for the entire ride to the hospital. Xander needed to know what happened back there, and he wanted to know if Riley was okay.

He also needed to know if Buffy was well on her way to the crazy house. 'Cause allowing Spike to just walk away? _So_ not of the good.

"And here I thought the ride over would be what was super awkward. Look man, I don't know what to—"

"She didn't choose me," Riley interrupted quietly.

"Well Buff, she um…what happened, exactly? I mean, why would she just—"

"I don't know," Riley lied, not wanting to discuss any of it.

Xander's eyes lit up, a thought suddenly occurring to him that made the evening's events make an iota of sense.

"Thrall. That's the only thing that makes any kind of sense in explaining why my best friend all of a sudden went wacky, letting the evil dead get away with that. Even if it is just Spike. And my god, he's un-chipped," Xander said, suddenly remembering Spike's currently unleashed status.

Riley shifted away from Xander, feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't want to talk about it—not now."

_Not ever_ Riley thought, shifting away. He desperately hoped Xander would leave soon.

Xander nodded, assuming that Riley's recent traumatic experience was solely what was causing him to suddenly shut down.

"I understand, Riley. I swear I'll get to the bottom of this."

Riley exhaled in relief once the brunette left. He didn't feel like trying to explain the day's events to him. Hell, he could hardly explain it to himself. He just wished it was all over—that he could push it all away and just focus on something else.

He was fairly certain that his and Buffy's relationship would never make it through all this. In all honesty, he was too scared to even try. He was tired of being second best, living in her shadow...

Riley Finn would not be a disposable sidekick to anyone.

And throwing on top of all that the whole Spike situation…

He couldn't face them all if they knew—or rather, when they all found out. More than likely no one would understand where he was coming from. Buffy, Willow and Xander had all previously dated demons, after all, and were blinded to their true natures. Even Giles had been tempted by Dracula's harem of vampires, knowing full well what they were, and not being held under their control by a spell.

It was all so…mind boggling.

Demons were absolutely not in any shape or form human—that's what it all came down to. Why couldn't they all understand that?

He reached for the phone, dialing the memorized digits.

"Graham? It's me."

His decision had been made as to what he would do next. 

ssssssss

Oh god. It wasn't true. Spike was just suffering from emotional trauma.

_I saw it in his eyes._

No—_no_. Harmony absolutely _did not_ see _anything_ in Spike's eyes.

Harmony was totally clueless, and probably way off base.

_Definitely_ off base. She probably saw loathing. Maybe fear...

_Then how come he didn't kill you?_

Buffy growled in frustration as she stalked to the cemetery gates.

"He feels nothing for me, and I feel absolutely nothing for him."

_Yuh huh. 'Cause you always lie to Giles in order to save the guy you hate. A vampire, no less, who's tried to kill you on several occasions._

Okay, to be fair, "hate" was a fairly strong word. Funny how he went from annoying, chipped vamp who wanted to kill her on occasion, but was no real threat, to now being a vampire whom she feared. And yes, at that moment, the thought of Spike did inspire a certain fear in her.

All it took was for her to hear of his potential feelings for her.

_Which is completely ludicrous because Spike doesn't—_ can't _have feelings, being soulless and all._

But god, did he look incredibly emotional all day today.

Buffy stopped, realizing how much like a bigot she sounded right in that moment. Deep down, she knew that Spike in fact _had_ feelings. She knew it...but it made it incredibly easier to just simplify it all.

_And keep him at a distance. Face it—acknowledging Spike's ability to care makes you think of Angelus, and how much he _didn't. _It's just so...scary. The fact that Spike can care, can _love_ more than some people is terrifying._

Buffy shook her head, attempting to clear it of all mental cobwebs. She couldn't focus on Spike right now and the possibility of him having feelings for her. And more importantly, what covering for him meant as to what her feelings (_or lack thereof—definite lackage of intimate feelings for Spike_) were.

She decided to go see Riley first.

She didn't know what was going to happen, or what she was going to say, but she knew it needed to be done and over with.

Tonight.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she didn't even notice arriving at the hospital, or requesting a visitor's pass for Riley's room.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy opened the door to his room, and saw him lying on his side, staring at her intently.

"Didn't expect you to come here," he admitted quietly.

"Of course I would. I mean...We need to talk."

Riley frowned at her, shifting sideways a bit more to see her better. Buffy refused to walk closer to his bed, and stayed close to the doorway.

"You let him walk away, Buffy. After what he did—"

"After what _he_ did? And what about what _you_ did, huh?" she accused, taking a step closer to his bed.

He sighed heavily, lowering his eyes. "You don't understand," he mumbled.

"You're right—I really don't. Why don't you explain it to me?"

Sounding incredibly self righteous, he said, "He doesn't _matter_, Buffy. He's just a thing—you've said it yourself." Buffy looked away, shamefaced. "He's no better than an animal."

"You know what? I was wrong to say that. And even if Spike, or any vampire or demon for that matter, was 'no better than an animal,' that still gives you no right whatsoever to _rape_ them," she said vehemently. "And my god, do I feel sickened by the thought of you growing up on a farm."

Riley grimaced, turning his head away from her.

"I'm leaving Buffy. Tonight. The military asked me back."

"Good," she answered softly, making Riley whip his head back around to look at her in shock. "I think it's for the best that you leave," she added solemnly.

"You don't even care that I'm leaving, do you? That you might never see me again? You never loved me," he accused, breathing hard.

Buffy sighed deeply, looking off to the side as she thought for a moment. Finally, she looked up at him.

"You're right. I never did."

Taking in his shocked expression, she opened the door, walking through it determined. All was quiet but the sound of the door shutting behind her.

* * *

"Walk Away"

Riley looked down on the seemingly quiet town of Sunnydale from the helicopter. He honestly felt as if he hadn't left soon enough. He should have known months ago that Buffy wasn't his—not really–and her harsh admission that she had never loved him only confirmed it.

He didn't need that.

He deserved better.

Even so, he knew that he still loved her, more than he loved anyone in his entire life. He hoped desperately that this mission in South America would give him some direction…some peace.

He was a soldier again, and now was the time to get back to the basics. 

ssssssss

The more Giles began to think of it, the more disturbed he became. Not only did his Slayer, his charge, the young woman who was like a daughter to him have some sort of penchant for allowing Spike to imbed his fangs in her neck, the vampire in question, conversely, appeared to not want to cause her actual harm.

The implications of it all was tremendous.

It was obvious that the two once mortal enemies had created...some sort of attachment towards one another?

Giles audibly scoffed at that.

_Yes, that's putting it mildly, isn't it?_

But damn it, how did it all happen? _When_ did it happen? Giles could most certainly feel a migraine coming on.

_Dear god, they have feelings for one another._

No, that's not exactly...

Yes, they do. They really do.

It was in that moment that perfect clarity descended upon Giles, simultaneously making him feel quite ill.

"What's the matter, Watcher? You don't look so well."

"Yes. Of course. Right," Giles muttered to himself.

"What?" Spike asked, quite perplexed as to what Giles was going on about.

"I must...that is, I...have to go. Air, and...quite."

"You sure you're okay, Rupes?"

"No, I'm bloody well not! Buffy might...she..._You_-- Dear lord," Giles said, sounding a little giddy. He was almost on the verge of hysterics.

Spike looked him over with a critical eye, pouring a generous shot of bourbon into the Watcher's tea.

"You wouldn't by any chance be crackin' up now, would you?" Spike questioned, handing him the cup of tea. Giles didn't answer him, instead opting to keep his eyes trained on the soulless vampire, sipping the tea slowly.

"It should be okay." Spike's tone was thoughtful. "I mean, so far, she's only let me get away with it."

Giles had a sudden glint in his eye at that, slamming the tea cup down upon the counter, sloshing some of the dark, hot liquid of the tea upon it.

_Yes, indeed. You and Angel._

"Don't you see? _That_ is precisely what's wrong with this entire situation!"

"What?" Spike looked suddenly offended.

"It's not as if I'm gonna hurt her."

Giles sided, looking suddenly weary. He turned his back on Spike, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.

"But don't you see, Spike?" he questioned softly, his back still to him as he unlocked the door.

_That's the problem_ Giles thought to himself.

And with that, he left, leaving Spike to his own thoughts. 

ssssssss

Buffy could honestly say that she was kinda glad for the reprieve. Though only momentarily, she got to not think of the weird, sharp turn her life had suddenly taken, and the vast shades of custom color gray it now forced her to dwell in.

This was easy…simple.

Getting back to the basics.

Vampires attack Slayer.

Slayer dusts vampires.

Not that she wanted to, really.

She had been going to give them a pass. Honestly. They didn't seem to be killing people, after all. But they absolutely would _not_ let it go that she had crashed their vampy whore house. She didn't understand what they were so touchy about.

It wasn't as if she had burned it down, or something.

But apparently, her mere Slayer presence there the night previous was enough to shut down their operation.

Indefinitely.

Shame, that.

Methodically, she dusted them one by one with a wooden pole. But she didn't take any real pleasure in it. No glee. Nothing.

She was still a bit too distracted to really enjoy it.

But as she dusted what she had thought to be the last one, she turned around and saw one more.  
It was her—the one whom she had seen with Riley…had listened to as Riley had told her to bite him harder.

She looked frail—sickly. Like a crack addict. Maybe she did drugs before she was turned, and was doomed to look that way forever.  
She was terrified, probably wondering if she had thirty seconds, let alone an eternity.

Buffy lowered her weapon. It wasn't the vamp whore's fault that instead of hunting and killing, she had humans pay her to bite them, or that Riley chose her.

Not that Riley was relevant  
anymore.

With a sigh, Buffy tossed the spear-like stick off to the side. The vampire, shaking in fear, turned and fled down the alley.

And Buffy let her.

"So, is this a new thing? Letting murderous vampires walk away? Or run, rather."

"Xander." Buffy turned, and took in his look of utter disappointment.

"As far as I could see, she wasn't killing."

"So what now? Gonna invite her over to your place for coffee? Or how about Giles' for tea? Seems to now be a favorite pastime of yours."

"You don't understand. It's not that simple."

"Then explain it to me, Buffy. I mean, I know your relationship with Riley was on the rocky—"

"You what? How?"

"It was right in front of my Xander face. But what I don't understand is why you were so easy on Spike. Just because your relationship with Riley was currently imploding, that was no excuse to just let Spike walk away. He set Riley up and had him...had him _raped_ Buffy."  
He said it as if the entire situation disgusted him, as if her decision making skills currently disgusted him.

He was making a judgment without all of the facts.

Buffy frowned, shaking her head, making an instant decision.

"You don't know everything that happened, Xander."

He spread his arms in a mock welcoming gesture.

"Then by all means, fill in the blanks. Explain to me your reasoning for acting like a crazy person."

"Riley...he raped Spike. I can't fault Spike for what happened tonight, for getting his revenge. Not completely."

"What?" Xander, once full of righteous indignation, suddenly looked pale from being knocked off of his high horse. For a moment, it looked as if he might not believe her, but then a look of confusion set in, as he thought twice about doubting the judgment skills of the girl who had never been wrong before…not about something like this..

Buffy nodded at him slowly, unable to repeat the statement aloud again.

"Spike was so hurt, Xander. He  
was...I told you it was complicated."

"I guess so," he conceded softly, looking anywhere but at her.

"Look, I'll handle it. Just go home, Xander. I—I have to go."

Buffy ran off before he could get another word in, although he was probably too shell shocked to think of anything else anyway.

At any rate, Xander didn't chase her. 

ssssssss

Spike should've known the old watcher wouldn't have taken that particular bit of news so well.

_By the way, Giles. Your Slayer may have a death wish. Or maybe she just likes having a vampire's deadly fangs in her neck. Or maybe, it's just mine that turn her on so much._

Bugger. 

Before Spike could further contemplate how he had royally screwed things up with the Watcher, the Slayer burst through the door.

_Ah, the Slayer. Always good for a distraction._

"Where's Giles?" she asked, looking around the apartment for her mentor.

"Scampered off, didn't he? Got a little bit of truth on him and couldn't handle it," Spike explained derisively, pouring a shot of whiskey at the kitchen counter, and then downing it quickly. "He was so screwed up in the head, he even left his door unlocked. And that's after, by the way, he groused bout us doing it. Soddin' hypocrite."

"Um, okay. Fine. We need to talk in private anyway," she said authoritatively, hands on her hips.

But in spite of her bold manner, Spike could detect a hint of nervousness about her.

"Bloody right, we do. What was that back there, Slayer?"

Buffy paused, her brow crinkling in confusion. Clearly his agreeing with her through her off a bit. That, and the fact that he had totally stolen her thunder.

"I...Hey! I'm the one who's supposed to be asking the questions! You bit me, Spike!"

"Yeah. And more importantly, you let me!" he accused, striding over to her.

"I—I was in shock. There was a lot going on, and your chip not working through me for a loop, okay? I mean, hello! For the first time in almost a year, you were... _semi dangerous_ again. That is, if you could even be considered dangerous before," she said darkly, not liking at all how he was accusing her of...she wasn't sure what.

"Watch your mouth, little girl. Cause I can..." Spike closed his eyes, shaking off his anger. He refused to let her goad him into an argument; there was something important that needed to be addressed right now. "Look, Buffy…that may be so. There was a lot to...cope with tonight. But what about a few weeks ago, huh? When we both thought my chip was out, you didn't even bother to fight me off then—not 'til my roaring headache, anyway. You were gonna let me bite you!"

Buffy's entire demeanor became defensive. She hated how this conversation was going all of a sudden. She felt inexplicably trapped, in a corner.

"There were _things _going on then too!"

"Yeah?"

"Yes! Important, mind-troubling things, and I just...I got distracted," she tried to explain, feeling defeated.

"Distracted, huh? When it comes to you living or dying, you really shouldn't be getting all that distracted, luv."

"Oh, right. Were you really gonna kill me, Spike?"

That silenced him. He looked away, taking a step back from her.

Buffy took a step closer to him, Harmony's words giving her courage.

"Were you, Spike? Either of those times, were you going to kill me?"  
Spike ground his teeth, jaw clicking, and turned icy blue eyes back on her.

"That's not the point."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it isn't. The question is, did you _believe_ I was capable of doing so? Did _you think_ I was gonna hurt you?"

Buffy paused, her eyes still focused on him.

"No," she answered softly.

"What's going on here, Buffy?" His voice was equally as soft, as was his expression. He tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear tenderly, exposing his neat puncture wounds marring her neck.

Buffy's eyes became hooded at the intimate contact of his fingers lightly brushing her skin, then dancing over his bite marks, causing her to visibly shiver.  
But just as quickly, she shook off the sensation, straightening. She couldn't get caught up in the rapture of his innocent, yet somehow sensual touches.

There was something that she needed to know.

"Are you in love with me?"


	5. Part Five

A/N: Thanks to DoS for her betaing skills, and to those of you who have reviewed. Only one more chapter to go after this...

* * *

"Bittersweet Symphony"

Giles didn't even bother getting into his car. He needed the air--the space. And though his little red sports car had a drop top, he knew that it would just make him feel confined. Walking was good. It would clear his mind.

Or so he hoped.

"Bloody hell," he sighed to himself, turning back towards his flat, digging into the pocket of his jacket for his car keys.

Within minutes, he was driving down the road, going fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. His mind was still cluttered, of course. The driving, much like the walking, didn't help.

His slayer once again held a vampire dear to her heart. A soulless one at that.

Giles scoffed to himself as he rounded a corner.

If he were to be truly honest with himself, he saw it coming.

It always flitted around in the back of his mind--how Spike would blaze in and out of town, always leaving unscathed, while Buffy remained in Sunnydale, equally unharmed. Not for a lack of trying, of course. But then there was the abundance of truces between the two, in addition to Buffy's willingness to help him once he was chipped. Their annoying banter, that reminded him so much of children in a school yard--the little boy who claimed that girls were plagued with cooties, and yet couldn't wait to run up to the girl he found most peculiar and equally disgusting, punching her in the arm to make her cry, when all he really wanted to do was kiss her on the cheek. And after a brief bout of crying, the girl would find the boy, kick him hard on his shin, and then somehow it would evolve into something else.

Something more, eventually, leaving the realm of simplicity behind.

Ever since Willow's failed, well, successful, actually, Will Be Done spell, and the faux engagement between the two warriors, he hadn't been able to shake the image of them together from his mind (even though he could not actually _see_ them at the time--the sounds of groping and smacking and the abundance of giggles and happy laughter had been more than enough). In fact, he had to admit that he knew this day would come. Hence his failed attempt nearly a year ago to try to convince Spike that perhaps his chip was a divine intervention. Should the day come when the two's subconscious feelings for one another would come to the forefront, at least Spike's place would have been solidified on the side of good, brought on by his handicap. And now the chip was rendered useless.

And yet...it didn't seem to matter. Either the vampire was in denial, or he couldn't see it just yet, but he cared for Buffy. Even stranger, he sought Giles' approval.

But strangest of all, Giles supposed, was that Spike in fact _had_ that approval, and that the Watcher felt, at least at this point in time, that it was not misplaced.

* * *

Spike knew there was one of two answers he could give to that particular question: the truth, which he had no doubt would come out in a bumbling, bashful, William sort of way, or a straight-up lie, which he knew would come out a little too vehemently, and of course if he protested too much...

Suddenly, a third tactic occurred to him.

"And what would make you ask such a question, pet?"

Evasion.

"Well, besides the fact that you viciously _not_ killed me tonight?" Buffy paused for effect, watching his reactions carefully.

He gave none, of course. He merely tilted his head, indifference tinged with a bit of curiosity written upon his face.

"Harmony and I had a little chat. She told me."

That simple statement completely cracked his facade, reducing it to so much ash in the wind.

He looked shocked at first, his eyes widening…and then anger set in.

"She..._What?!_ What did she say?" he seethed, his voice low and deadly, body tense and fists clenched at his sides.

Buffy wasn't worried, though. She knew his anger was directed at Harmony for disclosing what was obviously a secret, rather than at her for knowing said secret.

"Easy there, Hulk. She didn't...I mean, she just wanted to make sure you'd be taken care of. And it's true, isn't?" Spike scoffed, turning slightly away from her, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Have no idea what you're goin' on about, Slayer."

"No? So what, she lied to me? Why would she lie about something like that?"

"Maybe cause the bint's on a slow train? Her brain's on indefinite stand by? Who knows?" he said with a jerked shrug of his shoulders.

"Spike, I know she wasn't lying to me. I mean, your actions kinda prove that theory anyway." She could see him clenching his jaw, clearly aggravated and distraught that she was now aware of his feelings.

"So what if it is? If it's true, then what?" he questioned softly, his head hanging downward, refusing to look at her. He couldn't bear it--wouldn't be able to bear seeing her rejection, couldn't bear to see cruelty creep into her voice, as laughter--laughter at _him_ glittered in her eyes.

Buffy swallowed, starting to reach out to him, but then allowing her hand to drop. She let him keep his distance, if that was what he wanted.

"It's...it's okay if you do."

Spike's head snapped up at that, swiveling toward her so fast that she wondered if he'd have a crook in his neck as a result. He didn't seem to have any discomfort, so she figured no.

She didn't have time to dwell on it however, because she suddenly became overwhelmed by the look of hope and wonder in his eyes. His gaze was so piercing, she felt her heart constrict in her chest, and time seemed to gradually slow down until it stopped completely.

She was frozen in place—struck immobile due to his powerful, unwavering stare; and the only thing that let her know for certain that this moment was real was the invisible grip on her heart, causing it to beat erratically. Buffy involuntarily sucked in a breath, her left hand quickly lifting up to rest on her chest, over her beating heart, in subconscious hopes of somehow slowing it down.

"Why?" His voice was strangely soft.

"I dunno. But it's gotta be way better than plotting my demise. More pleasant, you know?" The lighthearted, cheerfulness of her voice was clearly forced, though it invoked a slight smile from Spike regardless.

"Perhaps," he replied with a nod. "Not that my plans of your demise ever really worked in my favor."

"Hey, same here. Though most of my plans of your demise were really in retaliation." This time, the lightness of her tone was natural, and she was clearly teasing. Then, her expression turned serious once more. "I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow, or the day after or...you catch my drift. But I just wanted you to know that whatever happens, I'll try my best to keep an open mind. And I'm thinking that what we both need more than anything right now is time."

"Time," he murmured, eyes dropping from hers once again. "But someday...there's a chance for a someday?" His gaze lifted back to hers, hope burgeoning in their clear, cerulean depths.

"Definitely a someday," Buffy replied quietly, reaching out for his hand as a small smile graced her face.

And if the continued quickening of her heart beat, and the way her insides warmed instantaneously at the bare contact of merely holding his hand, meant anything, she knew that someday couldn't be all that far away.

_

* * *

_

Thanks to Eowyn and Lindsay for betaing this part :D

* * *

_A sewer in downtown L.A._

"Drusilla, it hurts so much," Darla said brokenly, wrapped in the burned arms of her sire. "Why aren't I healing? It was never like _this_ before!" Darla wailed, tears running down her face. She knew that Drusilla wasn't nearly as scarred as she was, and she couldn't understand why.

"It's okay, my luv. You're still new, you see," Drusilla soothed, head resting gently atop the blonde's. "The mind doesn't match the heart anymore. Though it is a wonder why you didn't go up in a cinder."

As soon as she finished that sentence, Drusilla grew still, ceasing her gentle petting, and wailed out, inadvertently gripping Darla and her sensitive skin too hard. At Darla's cry of pain, Drusilla released her, standing up abruptly.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! I didn't see! I couldn't see! Oh, I've been such a bad mummy..." she lamented to herself.

Darla looked up at her in shock, certain that the dark haired vampire was not speaking to her.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a quiet voice, confusion written on her face.

"I failed you. And my sweet William—he hurts so! Uhharg!" she yelled, pulling at her hair, turning away from her daughter. Then, she calmed, tilting her head, listening to voices only she could hear. "Oh—oh!!" she exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands and spinning around until she faced Darla again. "I can fix it! Yes, Mummy's going to make it all better, isn't she?" she said to herself, walking down the tunnel.

"Drusilla—wait, where are you going? Don't leave me here! Please! Dru!"

But Drusilla kept walking, muttering to herself, fingers lightly dancing along the dank wall of the sewer as she increased the distance between her and an openly weeping Darla.

Her boy needed her more, for he had no one.

* * *

Lindsey knocked back another glass, sitting by the phone and feeling silly for even wishing it to ring. If Darla was going to contact him, it most certainly wouldn't be by phone. It would be by— 

The knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He leapt up from his comfortable leather chair and rushed to his door. He opened it with haste and saw her. Alone.

He became gripped with terror.

"Drusilla—I heard about Angel setting you two on fire...I see it's true," he said, taking in her burns. "Where's Darla? Is she—"

"You...you can help her, can't you?"

Lindsey exhaled in relief, motioning for the dark vampiress to enter.

"Come in. She's alive? She's all right?"

"She's not all right, no. But you can help—you love her," she said emphatically. "It surrounds you like a thick cloud of red smoke, it does." Lindsey just leveled his gaze at her, waiting for her to continue.

"I'll tell you where she is, of course. But first..."

"Whatever you need, Drusilla," Lindsey said earnestly, willing to do anything to help Darla.

Drusilla cackled, throwing her head back.

"Of course, of course, luv. Whatever _I_ need. Metal wings, for one." She paused, staring at him intently, dark eyes lucid and serious.

"I'm going to make it right as rain again."

* * *

Several weeks could make all the difference in a man's life. 

Spike decided to stay at his crypt—determined to not let Finn win. It was his home, damn it, and he was not _not_ going to let anyone or anything intimidate him into leaving.

At the very least, he forced himself to sleep there.

It was rough—the memories and initial lingering smells, and without Harm's incessant (albeit, grudgingly welcomed) chattering, it was damn quiet. But it was a trial that was slowly beginning to ease.

Spike began to spend most of his free time at Giles' for the liquor and the records, and Joyce's for discussions about the gallery and her day in general, occasional Dawn tutoring, and sometimes awkward conversations with Buffy.

Those in particular were always a slap and a tickle.

There was also Xander. One day, when they had run into each other at the Magic Box, Xander had offered, out of the blue,

_"So...wanna have a beer or three at my place? I mean, it'd be like old times—except maybe we could try to not annoy each other to death, you won't be tied to a chair, and my parents aren't drunkenly screaming bloody murder in the background."_

Seeing Spike's dead look, he'd added, _"Unlike Giles, I have a thirty-six inch color television with satellite." _

_"Yeah. All right."_

Spike wasn't sure what the boy knew or how he knew it, but there was no doubt that the invitation was only extended to him due to some kind of pity. But Xander never brought it up, so Spike decided to not think about it. It was awkward at first, but eventually a rhythm ironed itself out. Git wasn't so bad once he got past all the pettiness.

Things were going as smoothly as possible, considering. His relationship with Buffy had been progressing nicely these past several weeks, slight uneasiness aside.

Or so he had thought.

When she came bursting into his crypt that afternoon, not looking exactly pleased (which was of course, the understatement of the century), Spike slowly began wonder...

How he could have possibly cocked things up so horribly?

All right, so he hadn't gotten the chance to celebrate her birthday. Of course, it wasn't his fault, really. Just as he had shown up, wrapped gift and all, Dawn just had to be sneaking out, didn't she? And he knew he'd be remiss (and blamed, of course) if he just let her scamper about, breaking into stores and possibly getting eaten all on her own. And then that whole Key business—really, what was a guy to do with info like that? So, he'd dropped the Nibblet off, figuring it was best for her mum and sis to suss out her existence or whatall, and went home.

In hindsight, as he took in Buffy's glower, he was beginning to think that perhaps that wasn't the right course of action.

"Hello, Sunshine. See you're in a good mood this afternoon."

Buffy stopped short at the coffin on which he sat, anger radiating from her.

"How could you? I trusted you."

"Damn, pet, sorry. I wanted to come to your party—I did."

"What? Not that, Spike." Though Buffy was miffed at that as well, it wasn't her main reasoning for coming by. "How could you let her find out like that? From books and papers?"

Spike squinted his eyes at her.

"You can't be serious."

"Can't I?"

"The first thing you said to me was, 'I trusted you.' Clearly you didn't, 'cause I didn't know a bloody thing about what's been goin' on 'round here, did I? If I knew she was a soddin' Key or whatever, then yeah, I could have stopped her from finding out about herself from books and so forth." He scoffed, hopping down from the sarcophagus. "Figures you'd come busting in here, hell-bent on blaming me. Another reason to just push me away, right?"

"Are you kidding? This has absolutely _nothing_ to do with...with whatever is or is not between us," she said, flustered. "This is about _Dawn_."

"Uh-huh. Maybe so. But next time you wanna get your knickers in a twist, try looking in the mirror, yeah? If you had told me, or hell, bothered to tell her, all of this could've been avoided." His voice was low and dark, his expression stern, and Buffy faltered under his gaze. Instead of replying, she turned and left, leaving him to lament. He supposed he could have been nicer. He wanted the girl, after all.

He would have to try harder.

And what a bitch that was going to be.

Lucky for him, an opportunity to do so presented itself later that evening, when

Dawn decided she couldn't deal and scampered off. Buffy gathered the whole team to find her, and for whatever reason, she put together the two best trackers out of the group of six. He wasn't exactly sure why she paired herself with him, but he could tell she was tense. _Best to tread lightly then_ he figured.

"Dawn! Dawn!" Buffy yelled out into the night.

"Yeah, that should do it," Spike said, with subtle sarcasm.

"Spike—not now."

Well, okay. He couldn't help but still be pissed at her for blaming him and keeping him out of the bloody loop.

"The Nibblet scampered off to get _away_ from you. She hears you bellowing, she's gonna pack it in the opposite direction." They both stopped walking as Spike looked around. "Can't say I blame her."

So, he was being a little harsh. Not that she was undeserving of it, of course. And it wasn't like he wasn't telling the truth, right?

"You were right," Buffy said quietly, staring at the ground. Though he believed it to be true as well, surprise was written all over Spike's face at the admission. "This is my fault. I should've told her. And I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

Spike sighed at that, feeling guilty for who bloody knew why. He just knew that he had to comfort her.

"Look, she probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out. She's not just a blob of energy, she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb." He paused again, exhaling another sigh. "Which one's screwing her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel. You'll find her, just in the nick of time. That's what you hero types do," he finished with a shrug.

Buffy gave him a hopeful look, needing to believe him.

"You'll find her," he reiterated firmly.

"And then what?" she asked quietly. Spike was silent for a moment, mulling over his answer.

"And then… and then you say—" He placed his hands on her shoulders, gripping them with a firm gentleness. "Hey now— chin up, yeah? Everything will be okay. No matter what you are, I still love you. I'll always love you. Nothing's changed." His voice gradually lowered and became thick with emotion as he went on. He slowly embraced her in a hug, and she folded into his arms.

"We'll make it through this," he continued softly. "I'll be right here, right beside you." He secretly inhaled her delicate scent of lilacs and vanilla. He collected himself, and pulled away before she noticed something.

"See? Easy." He cringed inwardly at the slight tremble in his voice. Buffy looked off to the side, staring at the ground, though he was fairly certain she wasn't seeing it.

"Will you?" she asked, glancing up at him. He tilted his head, giving her a questioning look.

"Be here with me," she clarified.

"'M already here, luv. Question is, will you be here with me?" His voice was quiet, his expression slightly pained, anticipating her rejection. Buffy looked away again, eyes sweeping the playground.

"We should get going—we're supposed meet up with the others," she said, hating herself for avoiding his question.

For avoiding _him_.

Spike sighed, watching her walk away a few yards before beginning to follow her.

"Damn it, Summers," he muttered, subconsciously trying to pick up Dawn's scent on the breeze.

* * *

When they came up against Glory, Spike had to forcibly push aside all of his emotions in that moment. He couldn't be all broody boy—not that he did that. _Ever_.

He snuck up behind Glory as she landed a punch to Buffy's face, grabbing her arms and pinning them against her sides. She struggled a bit, but Buffy regained her footing, punching Glory as he held her. A bloody team, they were.

"I thought you said this skank was tough," he joked. Of course, it was then that Glory broke free, grabbed Spike's arm, flipped him over, and hurled him against a wall. She then picked him up and head-butted him before throwing him across the room, sending him crashing into a bunch of medical equipment on an exam table. He fell off the other side, and landed against the wall, unconscious.

So much for team work.

Buffy watched, feeling concerned on the one hand for Spike's well being, and pissed off on the other at the hell god.

"He wakes up, tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth," Glory jeered.

Buffy stepped up to her, getting in her face with a steely glare.

"How about you don't touch what's mine, hell bitch."

"That's funny, coming from the bitch that has my Key!"

Buffy's anger at the sheer audacity of the hell god gave her enough of an upper hand to keep Glory busy, along with Giles and Xander's attempted assistance, as Willow and Tara continued their spell. Though Buffy was stabbed with a tire iron for her trouble, Glory finally dematerialized into a cloud of dust before disappearing altogether.

Aside from her little flesh wound, Will's bloody nose, and a few bruises on Spike, Giles and Xander, Buffy realized how lucky they all were to be going home in one piece. She began to realize luck could only go so far, and that she should do a better job of keeping those that she cared about close to her as well as safe.

The trouble was, she couldn't be everywhere.

* * *

Drusilla had to admit—she was quite full from all of the passengers. But something..._someone_ was calling to her. The thing that would end up causing her boy so much pain. 

The Beast.

It was close—so close she could almost taste it. She paused, rubbed her belly sensuously, and then inhaled the air deeply. She walked and walked as the voice...the Beast whispered, even though it didn't know she could hear it. She found herself in a parking lot, and she saw him.

She could see the Beast behind his eyes.

She walked up to him slowly, a coy smile on her face. He was at his car, inserting a key into the lock. She was just inches from him as he turned around.

"Um, may I help you?"

"Lying eyes—there's someone else there. I can see it..." She took her index finger, and drew imaginary circles in front of his left eye, and then his right.

"Your other face wishes to do my sweet dear heart harm. Can't allow that, can I?" The young man looked deeply annoyed at this.

"Oh, great. Another one of Glory's crazies running around. I thought the Queller would've—"

Before he could finish his thought aloud, Drusilla had wrapped all ten of her slender, pale fingers on both sides of his face, and gave it a sharp jerk. He collapsed on the black pavement, head twisted at a dreadfully awkward angle. She licked a finger, tasting a bit of the excretions from his skin on her fingertip.

"Well, it's safe now, isn't it? Don't have to worry about the Beast awakening, do I?" And then she bent down, face shifting, fangs elongated, and had herself a taste of god blood.


	6. Part Six

A/N: Thanks to DreamsofSpike for betaing this final chapter. Also, thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed and supported this fic. It's been a year, but it's finally done. Hope you all like the results :D Oh, and here's two chapters for the click of one.

* * *

"Twisted Logic" and "Don't Cry"

"So, Spike. How are…things with you and Buffy?"

Spike furrowed his brow at the question, shifting uncomfortably on Giles' sofa. "Uh, how's that?"

Giles took off his glasses, Spike assumed, so he wouldn't have to look at him clearly. He watched as Giles bit on one of the stems, looking off to the side, and Spike was just certain he was pondering on how exactly he was going to say what was on his mind.

"Out with it, Watcher. Don't have all day," he said in an irritable tone.

Giles snapped his head up at that and, as if remembering himself, adopted an incredibly stern expression as he put his glasses back on. "I want to know what exactly is going on between you and Buffy. I know that the two of you have…er…um, some feelings…for one another. And if there is something going on between the two of you, or if anything's progressed, I have every right to know."

"Shouldn't you be talking to Buffy about this?"

"I'm talking to you," the Watcher replied in his no-nonsense tone.

Spike sighed, resting his feet on the coffee table in front of him, taking a swig from his Killian. "No need to be all nervous, Nancy. Nothing going on between me and the Slayer."

"But you have feelings for her," Giles stated. "And she for you, I presume. And you mean to tell me that _nothing_ has—"

"It doesn't bloody matter, does it? Indecisive bint." Spike paused at Giles' deathly glare. "Um, I mean…Summers won't make up her mind. Hardly gives me the time of day. So no worries—we won't be skipping through a field of daisies any time soon, I assure you."

Not to say that Spike still wasn't trying like hell to make that happen.

First were the clothes. Alright, so maybe the all black ensemble rubbed some people the wrong way. It had dark and mysterious connotations, sure, but was also associated with being standoffish, and therefore probably bad. So he got the khakis, and the prissy queen pastels, but just blues and purples—he'd be damned if he _ever_ wore pink.

And yeah, he'd already been hanging out with her mum and sis, the almighty father figure, and Xander, but then he thought that maybe it was best to hang out with her friends as a whole—to show that he could mesh with all aspects of her life, and not just some. Red was her best friend after all, and getting along with the mates of her…well, mates…was also important, especially since the Scoobies seemed to thrive on the whole group hanging out thing.

And actually…it was a bit of all right.

When he first walked into the Bronze, and saw Buffy sitting alone, watching her friends, he paused—not sure what to do or say exactly. But once he finally got the stones to do just walk up and talk to her, it wasn't as awkward as he thought it would be. The conversations were easy going, everyone was amicable…

It was only later, he realized, that Buffy had treated him as a friend. God, she looked at him as if he were some kind of British Xander replacement.

That just wouldn't do.

He had to get her in a setting where it was just the two of them—one that didn't exactly involve talking shop, especially.

But there was always something getting in the way--the "something" being his foot in his mouth, usually. For every step they progressed, there were two steps back to follow it. This latest incident had actually been three or four.

Dawn had come over, mischievous little minx that she was, after school. Said she felt safe with him, and liked how he didn't talk down to her like the others. Cheeky, that one. He liked the Nibblet. Talking to her was…incredibly easy, for some reason…which was good, 'cause having people on his side was always a plus. But then, it was also bad.

Sometimes, he talked a little bit too much.

It was just…she was so eager, and so very interested in the tales he had to tell. And she wasn't scared—she wanted to know every gory detail he had to offer. Talkative git that he was, he indulged her.

Hence the whole foot in mouth thing.

Of course the Slayer chose the moment in which he was discussing the little girl hiding in the coal bin to come barging in, upset that Dawn had stayed there so long, and no one bothered to inform her or Joyce. But it wasn't as if he had a phone. On top of that, he had to wait till nightfall to even escort Dawn home. Traveling through the sewers wasn't such a great idea either—not a proper place for a young girl. But then again, neither were cemeteries and crypts.

It seemed like every time Buffy got over being all sour-pussed with him for one reason or another, something else would suddenly come up. But Spike, ever undaunted, had a plan. First, he would apologize to Joyce…

* * *

"God, what is with you? You _know_ how worried Mom gets. And Spike! Telling you horror stories from the days of yore!" 

"No he wasn't! He was just…it was a history lesson. And I'm really sorry about not leaving sooner. We just lost track of time, and—"

"Dawn, you don't understand. That is not a place for you to hang out, okay? He is not your friend."

"He is too! God, jealous much?"

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Just 'cause you're afraid to spend any time with him, doesn't mean I have to be."

"You have a crush on him."

"No I don't! It's just…" Dawn paused to giggle a bit. "He's got cool hair, and he wears cool leather coats and stuff. And he doesn't treat me like an alien. Besides—pot? Kettle?"

"What?"

"It's so obvious you're into him."

"What? No I'm—"

"Ch-yeah, Buffy. You get all jittery around him and stuff, and you stumble over your words. Oh, and sometimes, you can't even look him in the eye," Dawn said triumphantly. "He's definitely crushing on you; you clearly like him…what's the big?"

Ah yes, that was indeed the question.

What was the big deal?

_Well, it's simple really. Buffy and relationships are just totally un-mixy things. Like oil and water. Or like chocolate fudge and a diet. _

If Buffy were to be completely honest with herself, she could admit silently that yes, she was holding back, and yes, she was dodging Spike's advances. She just…

Wasn't ready.

"Mom! The little delinquent's home safe and sound!" Buffy yelled once they came through the front door.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Joyce embraced Dawn in a tight, motherly hug before pulling back, holding her by the shoulders at arm's length. "Where the hell have you been, young lady? You know it's not safe!"

"Sorry, Mom. I was just…I was hanging with Spike, is all. And hey—he helped me do my homework, so…" Dawn waited, hoping her mom would let her off the hook.

Joyce's mood lightened up considerably at that. "Oh, okay."

"'Oh okay'? That's it? No lecture?" Buffy questioned.

"Well, I agree that Dawn is to come straight home, but Buffy, Spike's the best protection Dawn could have, next to you. Besides, he encourages Dawn to finish her homework. He's such a sweet boy," Joyce said with a bit of a smile.

"You do realize he isn't a boy, right?"

"I know, dear—he's old enough to be my ancestor, right? But there's just something…something endearing about him, you know?"

Dawn giggled. "I think mom wants to make him chicken and stars."

"Mom! It's not like he actually gets sick!"

"I'm aware, Buffy. You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were just a tad jealous."

Buffy sighed, not bothering to dignify that with an answer. "Listen, I'm gonna go patrol. See what I can find out about that train incident."

Really, what Dawn had pointed out earlier was suddenly weighing on her, and she just needed a serious distraction. She asked Xander to accompany her…not that she couldn't have handled it herself, but Xander had a car, and that was always faster.

_Yuh huh. _

Okay, so she just wanted to get him alone so that she could ask his advice. Even though he was her best friend, well, it was still way awkward. She knew how Xander felt about vampires—it was no secret. But, he did seem to be getting along better with Spike lately.

"Xander?"

"What?"

"Never mind…Well, it's just that…"

"Yeah?"

"Forget it."

"Buffy—"

"I…Spike wants us to be an item."

"Oh."

"And I don't know what to do about it. It's all so—"

"New?"

"Actually, I was gonna say weird. But new, too. I mean, he's been able to go back to his former evil way of life, but he's still on the pig's blood—"

"He actually prefers cow, with a touch of otter." On Buffy's "what?" expression, he hastily added, "Yeah, I know. Too much quality time. My life is a strange one."

"Anyway, he's completely going against his nature because he chooses to. It's so backwards, but..."

"Well, the guy does stomp his way to the beat of his own drummer. And god, how I wish this was just some weird Spike thing, but…he loves you."

"I know," she said quietly, looking down.

"And I don't know if the feeling's mutual, but it's obvious something's there."

Buffy looked up at him. "It is?"

"Yeah, it is. And to be quite honest, this whole thing goes against all my beliefs, and probably some I didn't even know I had. But sometimes," he paused, making a popping sound with his mouth. "You just gotta roll with the punches. Yeah, his chip stopped working, he doesn't have a soul, but…I dunno. He's different. The guy grows on you, like a fungus. He's like this disease that worms its way into the cockles of your heart. He's like—"

"Yeah, I think I get the picture."

"And maybe…maybe he had the chip for so long, he just lost the drive for evil. Anya did. You would not _believe_ how often and how much she would reminisce about her evisceration days. Took awhile, but it's almost passed completely," he said with a little grin.

"So you're actually agreeing that I should give him a shot?" she asked, disbelieving.

"You never know until you try?" he replied with a nervous grin. "Look, Buff, I can't tell you what to do. Only you know how you feel. And god forbid I push for you to be in a relationship with a soulless demon beyond one of the work variety. But…if something really is there, just be sure to figure out what that something is, and go from there. Gotta tell ya—I'm rooting for 'he's too short and too blond' feelings. But on the other hand, the attraction is understandable. Spike is strong and mysterious and sort of compact but well-muscled."

Buffy's eyebrows rose considerably at that.

"Wow. Definitely too much quality time with the two of you."

Xander scoffed. "Just saying—I won't judge. Much."

"Glad to have your unwavering support, Xand."

And truthfully, she was.

Should she decide to embark on a relationship with Spike, not that she was sure that she would, it was nice to have the hypothetical support of one of her best friends.

But she still had time. Spike wasn't pushing the issue exactly, and she was perfectly comfortable in remaining in their friendly bubble. So far, that seemed like the safest way to go. She just wasn't prepared to see—

Spike.

All comfy cozy in her kitchen with her mom and Dawn.

Not that it was a big deal or anything. It was just a bit of a shock, considering all of the thinking she'd been doing lately.

At least they weren't alone together.

"Oh, don't get us all laughing again, Joyce. Anyhow, I really need to talk to your eldest."

Okay—still not alone. Just in a different room, which happened to be a mere few feet away from other people.

"I got a bead on the guy who killed those people. The ones on the train."

"Do tell."

"I'll do better than that; I'll show."

There was something incredibly…dirty the way he said that. Then again, maybe it was just her gutter brain imagination. Either way, she was not panicking. This was strictly business. Yup. Patrol, investigating a crime…

With bourbon and a capella tunes.

And completely bogus suspects.

Not that she wasn't all paranoid and suspicious earlier, but the realization finally dawned on her.

"Oh my god...this is a date."

And then the panic set in.

"Pfft. You are completely off your bird, Summers. Honestly, I…" He trailed off, studying her shocked expression. "Was it really that obvious?" he asked quietly.

"Spike, you can't just…have, you know, undercover dates with me! It's not fair!"

"Not _fair_? Well how the bloody hell else am I supposed to get you outdoors, Buffy? If it's not patrol, and if it's not finding Dawn after her hissy fit of the week, you pretty much avoid me!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands out wide. He sighed in frustration, jaw clicking.

"You don't trust me." The defeat was evident in his tone and demeanor.

"Trust y—are you _insane_?! Spike, you have an open invite to my home, and my friends'. When we patrol, I am completely comfortable with having you literally at my back, and this is all with you being chip toppity _free_. This has nothing to do with your chip not working and _everything_ to do with you being a _guy_. My past relationships are no secret to you, and they all ended _badly_. Is it so irrational that I have a fear of—" She paused, looking away from him. "I can't do this right now," she admitted quietly, walking away from him as well.

* * *

"So yeah. He took me on a surprise date." 

"Oh," her mother replied, a pensive look on her face. "And he has feelings for you?"

"Yup."

"And what about you, Buffy?" her mother asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Buffy swallowed, glancing at her mother sideways on the couch before turning away.

"I do. I'm just…relationships tend to complicate things, and make them not of the good. At least in my world."

"Spike's nice, sweetie. But I just don't know how to feel about you dating another—"

"We are _not_ dating. Besides, it's not like I faired so well with guys of the human variety."

"Buffy—"

"And anyway, it's not you're making this easy. Or Giles. Even Xander! You guys are always inviting him over and stuff, not that there's anything wrong with that, but there's only so many times I can face his kicked puppy demeanor. It's like I'm backed into a corner or something."

"And maybe you are. If you want to be with him…" Joyce sighed, looking at her steadily. "I can't stop you. I like Spike. I do. But he's still a vampire. But if you don't want to be with him, then just tell him, honey. Don't drag it out like this—it'll just end up hurting him worse."

"I don't wanna hurt him."

"Tell him how you feel. He may not like what you have to say, but I'm sure he'll understand."

But the problem that Buffy faced was that she did not want to lose him either.

* * *

He couldn't understand why she was being so bloody difficult—why she kept pushing him away. Yeah, she had a valid point about her past relationships, but that's the point of the past, in'nit? History helps one learn from one's mistakes. 

Between the two of them, he figured they should fair all right.

He just needed to know…what would it take to get her to even try? What did he have to do in order to—

He paused in his musing, hearing a faint noise behind him.

"Who's there?"

Spike turned and saw her—his ripe, wicked plum.

"A happy memory, pretty Spike." Drusilla's eyes were hooded, trained on him as she slowly trailed a red rose down her smooth cheek. The other side of her face was hidden in shadow. "Mummy's come to make it all better."

Spike scoffed, walking over to his easy chair, plopping down in it unceremoniously. "That right, pet?"

Though he couldn't see it, Drusilla nodded with a grin on her face, gliding towards him. "Yes. We can be a family again, William. A real one..."

It was then that she told Spike of Darla's return, and how Angelus was on the rise.

"So, uh, let me get this straight. Darla got mojo'd back from the beyond...you vamped her...and now she and you are working on turning Angel into his own bad self again," Spike reiterated, with a great lack of enthusiasm.

"Mm-hmm." Drusilla took no notice, of course.

"Sounds fun," he added dryly.

"It is. Like lollipops at the circus. Although...didn't care for Angelus setting us on fire."

Spike watched as she touched her still healing cheek and chest, wondering why in the blue hell she would want to get back with a vampire who clearly wanted her dead. "And this has got you…what, all nostalgic now, has it?"

"I want us to be a family again, my William." She walked up close to him, putting her mouth next to his ear. "Come back with me," she whispered. She pulled back, looking at him expectantly.

"To Los Angeles?" he continued after her nod. "I've done the whole L.A. scene, Dru. Didn't agree with me. Besides, I've got a sweet little setup here in Sunny-D. Decent digs...not to mention all the tasty townies I can eat."

Dru rubbed one finger against the other in a scolding gesture.

"Naughty! Shh." She put her finger to her lips, her eyes sympathetic. "You needn't make up stories. So much pain and agony in this room. And not the rosey, pleasant kind."

Spike turned his eyes away from her in shame. He had been afraid she would see from the moment he realized she was there. But up until now, it had been so far so good. But with his luck, of course, that bit of privacy would be shot to hell.

"But it was so fortunate, my pet."

His head snapped up at that, jaw clenching. "_Fortunate?_" His voice was cold, bitter, and tinged with hurt.

"Yes. Poor boy." She pouted, putting her hand to her head. "Tin soldiers put funny little knick-knacks in your brain. Can't hunt! Can't hurt! Can't kill! You had a chip. If it hadn't happened that way, it would've been a few more trips around the sun before that little bit of...plastic, spider webbing out nasty blue shocks would be put to rest."

She grabbed both of his hands, pulling him up from the chair.

"But you still haven't been feeding properly..." She looked up at him, sorrowful, placing both of her cool hands on his cheeks. "This isn't you, Spike. You aren't meant for the light. The colors are all wrong," she continued, trailing both hands downward, one lingering on his neck as the other continued its descent, all the way down to the button of his new navy blue jeans. "Let Princess make it all better."

And though Spike wasn't particularly inclined to let her make it better, he wasn't exactly feeling up to stopping her, either. After all, it wasn't as if he agreed wholeheartedly that the new clothes were against all things bad and true.

"Only…" She paused, tilting her head, looking at him thoughtfully. "Now, that just won't do." She closed her eyes, placing her fingertips delicately at his temples, and then wormed her fingers inside, Spike screaming in pain all the while. She gasped when she felt it. "There…"

* * *

Buffy stopped her slow walk of trepidation at the sound of Spike's gut-wrenching scream. 

He was in trouble.

"Glory," she whispered before bursting into a full-out, panicked run.

Seconds later, she was totally unprepared for what she saw. Drusilla, with her fingers inside of Spike's head. Buffy winced as he continued to scream in agony.

Shock prevented her from moving.

Drusilla pulled her fingers out—one hand fisting. Spike, now quiet, collapsed on the cold floor.

"There, there, my pet. Mummy's got it now."

"I think you need to get away from him," Buffy said, her tone menacing.

Drusilla cackled.

"Oh, the Slayer's come to play. No need to worry." Drusilla stopped for a moment, licking her finger. "My boy's all right now."

"He is _not_ your boy."

"Isn't he?" Drusilla tossed something at Buffy's feet. It was a corroded piece of metal, surrounded in plastic. "I made him. Nurtured him as a good mum should, and took the pain away. See?"

"It looks to me like you made the pain worse," Buffy pointed out, looking at a not so peppy Spike groaning on the floor. She eyed the dark vampiress warily as she slowly eased towards Spike.

"No, no, deary. That chip was merely asleep. But it was going to wake up. And it was going to scream—scream deep inside all fitful like my Spike's head."

"How did you do it? I mean you just…"

"It was in the blood."

"Blood?" Spike questioned, coughing in the process as he stumbled to his feet, making his way towards Buffy. He didn't know what his beloved was capable of anymore. Buffy rushed to his side, helping him stand.

"The blood of the Beast, of course. Sweet rhapsody, it was. _Glory._ Although, I can already feel it fading—like the dying flames of a fire."

"You tasted…you killed Glory?" Shock didn't even begin to describe Buffy's expression. "How…"

"I had to kill the doctor to kill the beast. It lived inside of him, you know. She would have made you all kinds of pretty, nasty colors, Spike—all reds, purples, and blues. It wanted the Key, and you wouldn't tell her. You would have died to save her—to save them." Drusilla moaned, hands clutching at her belly. "I already failed you, my love."

She looked at him forlornly as he squinted at her, and Buffy shifted her gaze between the two of them with a furrowed brow. Drusilla tried to approach them, but Spike put his hand up, stopping her.

"That's close enough, pet."

Dru smiled wistfully at that. "Echoes, my sweet." She leveled her gaze on Buffy then. "And you…you're wrong. No matter how long the cat's been away, I still birthed him to the night. But now…his lovesick stare is stuck on you. Be a good dolly, and keep him glowing at night. Keep the darkness away like an effulgent star in the dark sky," she said, staring at the ceiling, her hand moving slowly through the air above her.

She looked back at them before walking towards the door.

"Someday, my sweet William...someday has come."

And with that, she was gone.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Buffy asked, still staring at the open door of his crypt.

"Looks like your Glory problems are gone, pet. And so is my chip, officially," Spike answered, looking disdainfully at the small, wrangled piece of plastic and metal on the floor.

Buffy turned to him, concern evident in her eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah—never better. Nothing a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of whiskey won't cure, I'm sure," he replied, placing his hand over his forehead. "Not everyday a bloke gets someone literally running their fingers through his brain." Spike took in her expression of worry, and ran his thumb reassuringly over the apple of her cheek. "I'm all right, Buffy."

"I got so scared. When I heard you scream…" Tears were in her eyes now, the shock having waned. But she didn't cry—simply pulled him to her, holding him close. She breathed him in and closed her eyes, welcoming the comforting strokes he gave her slowly up and down her back. Her face was in the crook of his neck, and she breathed into it, "I can't lose you, Spike."

He moved her back a bit, and cupped her face. "Not going anywhere, pet," he murmured.

And then she kissed him. It was desperate, yet tender…passionate and loving.

"Buffy…" he gasped, pulling her closer.

They tumbled to the hard floor, still kissing and groping one another. But then, Spike stopped, pushing up on his forearms, hovering above her, staring at her flushed face intently.

"What?"

"This isn't just your fear talking, is it?"

"No. I want this. I want _you_." And she meant it.

"Is it…can we stay here?"

"It's not romantic in the least, but…" She trailed off when he looked away from her. She watched as his jaw began to click, and she slowly began to understand.

He needed this to be here—_right_ here. He needed a new memory, and he wanted it to be with her.

She raised her hand up to his chest, tentatively unbuttoning his shirt. He turned back, looking down at her. She smiled softly.

"Here is just fine."

And she pulled him down—his shirt only undone halfway…but she didn't care. She started to kiss him again, and though he was shocked, he came around and kissed her back. Their slow, careful movements somehow transformed to hungry and rapid. The intense need to relieve him of his pain and bring them both fulfillment spurred them on, and neither bothered to completely remove all of their clothing. Spike pulled her pants and underwear down to her ankles, stopping at her boots, and lifted her bound legs up in the air before maneuvering in between them, his pants unzipped by her hands.

"Look at me," she requested, hands braced on his shoulders.

He nodded, and then pushed inside of her slowly. Her audible breaths mingled with his groans, and she squeezed his biceps until he was all the way inside. After the first, powerful thrust, she reached under his arms, grasping his shoulders, rocking her hips against him.

His languid pace vanished after that.

He thrust into her with bestial ardor, watching in fascination as she involuntarily moved back and forth on the floor in rapid succession from his movements.

He knew he should have been gentler—kinder. He knew he should have taken extra care to her needs.

But he couldn't.

There was a deep unrest within him, and if her eyes full of compassion and understanding were any type of accurate indication, she understood.

And more importantly…she was okay with it.

As he felt himself nearing completion, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking the faint impressions left there by his fangs. She rubbed his back encouragingly, the fingers of one hand tangling in the short hairs near the nape of his neck.

And then, there it was—

Insurmountable pleasure that unleashed his pain.

Release.

Release in every sense of the word.

He clutched at her as she held him tighter, feeling his silent tears trickle onto the skin of her shoulder.

"It's all right. It's okay," she murmured gently into his hair.

And she realized in that moment that she genuinely believed that it would be.

* * *

Later that night, they made love again for what seemed like hours. 

_No…judging by the dawn, it's actually_ been _hours._

"I'm tired. I just want to rest my eyes for a bit." Her voice was raspy, and her throat dry, but she was too tired to care.

"A goddess among mortals, you are," he whispered, and then kissed her gently. "Okay, pet. Come with me." And he led her downstairs, drawing the covers over her in his king-sized bed.

She was asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Buffy woke up a few hours later, enveloped in Spike's arms. She sat up slowly, attempting to get up without waking him. 

She then remembered that this was much harder to do with a boyfriend of the non-human variety.

_Is that what he is? My boyfriend?_

"Buffy…" he mumbled, his hand splaying across her belly.

"Hey," she answered, pulling the sheets up around her.

His eyes cracked open, peering up at her. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Well, it's kind of late in the day. Don't want my mom getting the wiggins and all. Besides—I'm thinking I need to round up the gang anyway, and plan…something."

Spike looked confused briefly before his eyes opened a bit more in comprehension. "Glory. If what Dru said was true, she's officially out of the game."

"Yeah. Which is good, granted, but…I just wish I knew how she did it."

"Sounded to me that she killed some human that was the old bird's host. A doctor."

"Yeah, well…" She paused, fiddling with the sheets a bit. "I should get going."

"Yeah. All right. Um…if you don't mind going through the tunnels, I can walk you."

She smiled slightly at his suggestion. "Okay."

They dressed in silence, giving each other covert glances from the corners of their eyes. Once they were both done, Spike simply gestured towards the tunnels as a gentleman would escort his lady. Buffy quirked her lips a bit, causing Spike to smile in return.

Their silence persisted as they traversed the tunnels—Buffy with her hands at her sides, every once in awhile looking up at him, while Spike kept his eyes downward with a pensive expression, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

After about ten minutes of this, she heard him mutter, "Sod it," and he reached out and grabbed her hand.

She held it back.

"This okay?" he asked quietly.

She stopped walking at that, and looked at him, placing her hand gently on his edged cheek. He tilted his head into her palm, gazing at her adoringly. She held his loving stare for a moment, before turning and continuing their trek. Still holding her hand, he followed. Silence prevailed once again until they were on Buffy's block.

"Well, this is my stop. This is my stop, right?"

"Yeah—this opening is about four houses away from yours."

"Okay. I'll set the meeting for right after sundown at the Magic Shop. You'll be there?"

"Of course, luv." And he kissed her hand, before heading in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Buffy—you're home," her mother greeted her at the door. "You were out all night." 

"I was."

"Were you with Spike?"

"Mom—"

"Well it's just that…I like Spike. You know I do. And as the years have passed, I've realized that perhaps a traditional, normal life isn't in the cards for you, and I've accepted that. But a fish and a bird can—"

"I know, mom."

"And I mean…what if the bird tries to eat the fish?"

_God, pet. You taste so—_

Buffy shook her head, really not wanting to think about _that_ in front of her mother—even if she was none the wiser.

"He's not going to…Do you really think he'd hurt you? Any of us?"

"No, but what if things don't work out between you two? Then what?"

"It'll be fine, Mom. And if it's not sometime down the road…" Buffy held her mother's eyes. "I'll deal."

"Oh, honey…" And Joyce embraced her tightly in a way that Buffy knew meant she wanted to protect her from the evils in the world. "I am glad you're not alone."

"Hey, I'll always have you."

Ignoring that slightly, Joyce responded, "I'm glad Spike will be there to take care of you—to help you."

_And I'll help him, too_.

* * *

"So Buff, when are we going to get this meeting started?" Xander asked from the round table, where Willow, Tara and Giles were also seated. 

Buffy remained standing, pacing back and forth in front of the counter.

"Xander, it's obvious she's waiting for Spike," Anya answered from behind the cash register. "I too know how annoying as well as inconvenient it can be repeating oneself," Anya said to Buffy.

Before Buffy could respond, the familiar jingle of the bell on the door sounded, causing her to turn towards it. Spike entered, and Buffy walked up to the door to greet him. Though it was tentative, she gave him a kiss in front of them all.

"I didn't do a spell again, did I? And…and not realize it or something?" Willow asked around worriedly.

"That'd be much more convenient, wouldn't it?" Giles mumbled to himself, averting his eyes with an exasperated sigh. He was more annoyed than upset. He did see it coming, after all.

"No, you didn't, sweetie. It's real," Tara reassured her. "Their auras are healthy pinks. It's kinda nice."

Willow's eyes widened in shock, and she looked over at Xander and Giles to make sure they were all right with it. Xander quirked his lips a bit, turning his head from the scene, while Giles just pursed his lips—looking just this side of irritated. Xander glanced at Buffy and Spike before turning his eyes to his red-headed best friend.

"Yup, Will—hell has officially frozen over. But considering things…it ain't so bad."

Willow's mouth hung open a bit in shock at that.

"Did you all take some kind of special medication that I missed out on by any chance?" Willow asked.

"So yeah—let's get down to business," Buffy said, pulling away from Spike and ignoring his shocked expression.

"I feel so out of the loop right now," the red head groused.

Tara rubbed her back reassuringly.

"Well, _I_ most certainly saw it coming," Anya said triumphantly.

"Oh. Uh…right then," Spike said, suddenly immersed in a cocky attitude as he strode to the table, sitting down next to Giles.

"Skipping through daisies, are you?" Giles asked Spike quietly..

Spike positively beamed at that. "Well, we most certainly are now—_Dad."_

Giles merely rolled his eyes at that, his attention focused on Buffy. She briefly explained the incident with Drusilla, and how she mentioned killing Glory.

"Buffy, are you certain? Drusilla isn't exactly the most reliable of sources," Giles pointed out.

"Well, if the fact she was able to literally put her fingers in my brain was any indication, I'd say yeah, her info was damn accurate, and she had herself a taste of god blood."

Everyone was silent at that.

"Shouldn't we all still be scared then?" Xander asked, clearly worried. "I mean, Glory was bad enough, but at least she was sane some of the time. No offense," he added to Spike.

Spike shrugged, since it wasn't insulting so much as true. "S'alright, lads and ladies. She said it was fading—the powers, I mean."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, Harris, it's un-bloody-likely she'll use it to hurt me and mine."

"And what exactly does that mean for people beyond the Sunnydale border?"

"Dunno." _And don't care_ Spike thought. "But whatever it is, she has a more than narrow margin to do it in. Besides, we have enough problems here—can't save everyone."

They all looked pensive at that for a moment.

"At any rate, Drusilla has done a great service to us by eliminating Glory," Giles added.

"Just so you know, she did it for me, mostly," Spike corrected.

"Aww—is Spike feeling all special now?" Xander teased.

Spike looked up at Buffy. "Yeah. I am."

Buffy smiled at him, before turning her attention back to her friends. "Glory may be out of the picture, but I know there are demons out there who still want to open the dimension gates. No rest for the wicked and all that."

"Which consequently means no rest for us," Anya pointed out.

"Maybe not. But at least we've got a brief reprieve," Buffy countered.

No matter what happened, she knew Spike would be fighting by her side, and she was comforted by that.

Everything else would work itself out.

* * *

South America 

Riley walked through the underbrush with caution, rifle held tightly in his grip.

All was quiet.

His muscles loosened as he took out his CB radio.

"Dark Sparrow—all's clear. Over." Riley waited for the confirmation that all was clear on that end.

But it never came.

"Dark Sparrow? Allen? You there?"

"Shh—he's sleeping." Riley jerked, turning his gun on a dark haired woman, surrounded in shadow, holding her index finger to her lips.

"Uh, ma'am—"

"I tried to come as soon as I could. The pixies told me the blood was fading fast, so I flew on metal wings. Lindsey was oh so helpful. Now I can stir and spin the grey matter in the noggin."

"Blood? Are you all right—Ms…?"

"Justice. You can call me that. I'm not sure I fancy that, really, but it's fitting for the moment, don't you think? But the pixies said it would quiet the voices in my head. At least, for awhile."

"I don't think it's safe to—"

"Not the sight, of course. Just the voices. It'll be just like it was…_before_ Daddy."

"Do you need some help?" Riley asked, gun still trained on her. Just because she was sick in the head didn't mean that she was safe.

"No worries, though. I'll save the voices for you. They'll make you feel dirty and lost, but it'll still have a pretty tune."

She raised her middle and index finger, pointing at his eyes, swirling them in slow circles. Riley was instantly entranced.

"Look into my eyes. Be in me," she commanded, swaying back and forth. Riley's hands grew lax, and the gun sagged in his grip. Drusilla stepped closer, knocking it out of his hands. Riley just stared at her, not very aware of what was happening.

"Got here just in time," Drusilla murmured, closing her eyes to concentrate as she lifted her fingers to Riley's head, pressing in on his temples. Though it was harder this time, she had just enough for her fingers to maneuver in, reaching inside.

Drusilla laughed, as she found what she was looking for.

Sanity.

The End.

* * *


End file.
